Watch Over You
by peachyphoenix
Summary: Post Jacksonville complications and a new case lead to tensions, secrets, and revelations that affect the Fringe team. P/O
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Hey! So I'm hoping this will end up being a weekly updated chapter fic. I haven't written any fanfic in years though, and this is my first Fringe fic, so be gentle with me. I hope you enjoy it!

I don't own Fringe. Obviously. : )

******

Chapter 1

Walter Bishop's raspberry yogurt landed with a sickening splat on the concrete floor of the Fringe Division's basement lab. Blinking down at the mess in surprise, the scientist chuckled and grinned as his son, Peter, leerily looked up from his book to see what on Earth had happened this time.

"I've dropped my snack," the older man stated, eyes twinkling in amusement. He lightly hoisted the tiny dish that remained safely in his other hand. "It's a good thing I didn't drop _this_, however!"

Peter regarded his father cautiously, not sure whether he really wanted to know the answer to his own question. "Walter, what do you have in there exactly?"

"_Brains_," the elder Bishop replied in enthusiasm, grinning down at the goop.

"Right…" Peter started to nod, but then shook his head. No, in retrospect, he definitely hadn't wanted to know. But it was his responsibility to know – as bizarre and backwards as that was – and curiosity was battling with common sense as he fiddled with the edges of his book's pages. He soldiered on, brow furrowed. "So… why do you have a bowl-o-brains again?"

"I believe this mouse may have died of an enzymatic abnormality arising from an unknown compound I discovered in its food yesterday. I'm testing its brain for the chemical markers that would indicate my hypothesis is correct."

"Of course." His brow furrowed further. "Question though: How did the compound get in its food? And what makes you so sure it didn't belong there in the first place?"

Walter beamed in what Peter could only assume was delight at the prospect of discovery. Or insanity. It was usually a combination of the two. "I have no _idea_! Thrilling, isn't it?"

_I'm sure the mouse wouldn't think so_, he thought before another part of him stepped in to check his unexpectedly gloomy response. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat, but could think of no reply to offer up… and that's when he _knew_ something was wrong. Sarcastic witticisms were his well-honed defense mechanism of choice. He _always_ had a retort ready.

His father seemed to agree, and he frowned in concern when he noticed the lack of response. "Are you all right, son?"

"Fine," he said quickly, this reply, at least, very ready. A worried Walter was a fussing, upset Walter, the kind that woke him for no apparent reason in the middle of the night to check to see if he was still breathing, and no one wanted that – especially Peter and his dying hopes for a normal sleep cycle. It was best to defuse that worry before it was even fully formed. He threw in a half-grin for good measure, and he was relieved to see his father's shoulders relax as he returned the smile.

"I know what you need," the other man began in a sympathetic tone, and Peter tensed, suddenly not wanting to hear what he'd say. Blonde hair and green eyes flashed in his mind's eye and he shoved the image away.

Ever since the night he and Olivia gone out for drinks, his father had been hinting more and more about her, and it was almost more than he could take. Before their date he had just been trying to convince himself he was content with the relationship he and Olivia had, despite what he'd _wished_ they could have, and his father… Well, Walter's hints back then hadn't been helping, to say the least. Now he was battling with doubts about whether she felt the same way he did about her – and at the moment he was trying resolutely _not_ to think about it. He didn't need Walter bringing it to the forefront of his mind again. _Please don't say Olivia. _Please_ don't say Olivia_….

"You need a case!" Walter finished with a grin.

"A _case_?" He had to laugh in surprise as the tension leeched from his frame, and he scratched his fingers through the short hair at the top of his head in relief. "Maybe you're right," he conceded with a small smile.

"I know I am." Walter looked momentarily plaintive as he dropped his gaze back down to his small bowl of mouse brains. "It's been three days since our last case. I hate to admit it, but I…Well, I barely know what to _do_ with myself these days…"

He looked so small and childish that Peter shut his book and turned his full attention to him with a twinge of sympathy. "Aww, Walter…"

The older man looked up at him and smiled sadly. "Besides, I like seeing you and Agent Dunham together."

"Aww, _Walter_," he moaned. "Not again. Please. Not today. Don't you have brains to examine?"

The sad smile on his suddenly old face grew slightly more melancholy, but he nodded. "Quite right, son." Rallying himself, he nodded once more forcefully and his smile became more sincere. "Yes. Quite right. There are brains to examine! I think this calls for the Beatles!"

"Well, nothing says mouse brains like 'Yellow Submarine.'"

He watched the older man totter into a back room to put the music on, brains still in hand, and shook his head as "All You Need is Love" suddenly resounded through the lab. _Walter_. Rolling his eyes toward the dingy ceiling of the basement, he flipped open his book and tried futilely to return to reading.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open and he looked up to see Astrid walk in. "Hey," she greeted with a cheerful bounce in her step, casting an easy and seasoned eye around the oddity that was Fringe Division. Gene mooed in the corner and she smiled.

"Hey," he replied, curious what she was doing here. Without any ongoing investigations to look into, they all had today off. _He_ was only here because Walter had begged him. He thought back to this morning when his father had begged him to go – while he'd begged his father to close his bathrobe – and shook his head with a suppressed shudder. Life with Walter was certainly never boring. "What's up?"

She shrugged. "Not much. I was just in the neighborhood and figured I'd drop by and see if you needed a break from watching Walter."

"_Yes_." Standing quickly, book abandoned, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Astrid, you're the best. He's driving me insane. I won't be gone more than 15 minutes – I hate to inconvenience you, and I know you _must_ have someplace better to be, no matter what you say – but a break would be _great_."

The junior agent giggled at his earnestness and grinned. "It's not a problem. Take as long as you need. Besides, Walter and I have a game of monopoly to finish."

He didn't need telling twice. Grabbing his coat and pausing only briefly to glance over his shoulder toward the room into which his father had disappeared, he headed quickly toward the exit. "In that case, maybe I'll get lunch. _Thank_ you." He tossed a smile at her before closing the door firmly behind him.

Freedom. He took a deep breath to enjoy it as he jogged down the Harvard building's outdoor stairs and eagerly inhaled the chill air. Glancing at his watch, he considered his options. He could call Olivia, ask if she wanted to get some lunch maybe. It had only been a day since he'd last seen her, but he couldn't believe how much he wanted to see her again.

Still, as much as the thought of seeing her again sent a thrill through him, it also set off a small wave of anxiety. After the events with the buildings in New York, they'd gone out for drinks. To his surprise, it had actually been her idea (_"You know, like normal people do. We can pretend, right?"_) and especially after their almost-kiss it had given him hope that maybe she returned the feelings he'd been trying to ignore for so long after all. He had firmly told himself and Walter that it wasn't a date, but he'd been unable to prevent himself from dressing up a bit and grinning foolishly as he'd prepared. She'd looked so beautiful and happy to see him when he'd first opened the door to let her into their apartment that something in his gut had fluttered in a way that made him feel decidedly adolescent, but that he was willing to put up with if it meant spending time with her.

He thought the evening had gone fairly well – for the most part. They'd smiled and laughed and generally had a great time, but she'd seemed… distracted. It almost seemed like she had been avoiding looking at him, and when she did look at him there had been something in her eyes…

But despite that, somehow, at the end of the evening, they'd kissed. Nothing too showy, just a gentle, slow good night kiss that was everything he'd hoped it would be. She'd smiled at him when they'd parted, the smile lighting up her eyes in a way he hadn't seen in a long time, and he'd been so happy, but even in that moment there was something distant about her eyes, something she wasn't telling him, and her smile had slowly faded to a forced one. He thought he'd seen tears well up in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure. Nevertheless, he knew she'd been sad. Troubled. _Something_. And it had nearly broken him. What had he done wrong?

He'd tried to ignore the feeling, but her distance had lingered and it left him feeling defensive and hurt despite himself, and helplessly wishing he could help or at least know what was going on. She would barely look at him. He'd tried to ask her what was wrong, but she'd denied that anything was wrong at all, even as her face fell slightly and she'd looked away from him again, apparently unable to hold his gaze.

No, something definitely wasn't right, and he was terribly worried it was something to do with him. Maybe he should back off. Maybe she wasn't as over that whole business with John Scott as they'd thought. Or maybe she just didn't like him like he did her. She was scared – he got that. So was he, if he were to be honest with himself. But he'd seen the way she smiled at him… Peter sat down on a bench and watched students walk by as he scowled in confusion. Maybe it was like she said. Maybe it was nothing. But he still felt paranoid and over-analytical and helpless and self-doubting, and he hated it. He finally had a chance to be happy for once and he was going to ruin it by being paranoid.

He frowned. More than anything, he just didn't want to mess this up. In his whole life, he'd never felt this way before, never met anyone like her before. Hell, he'd stayed in one place for her, and he hadn't done that in over 15 years. She'd made him _care_ again. It was why he hadn't made a move before now, no matter how much or how often or how long he'd wanted to: He was scared of losing her in whatever capacity he did have her.

Sighing, he took his phone out of his pocket and let it dial the familiar number. It rang twice before she picked up. "Dunham."

"Hey, 'Livia."

"Peter! I was just thinking about you."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he relaxed slightly with a tender smile of his own. This would be all right. He just needed to keep his head.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Hello again! Thank you to all of you who reviewed for your kind comments!! I really appreciate it, and it makes doing this so much more fun. Here's the next chapter, as promised. The story's still in the "setting the scene" phase in this chapter so I'm afraid you might think it's going a bit slow, but to those of you who can stick it out, the new case they'll be dealing with starts in next week's chapter! Thanks again, and enjoy! : D

****

Chapter 2

As soon as Olivia heard Peter's voice on the other end of the line, she grinned. "Peter! I was just thinking about you."

Something in his tone seemed to relax at her words, and she could tell he was smiling as he spoke in that voice that always seemed to make something twist pleasantly in her stomach. "I was just wondering if I could interest you in some lunch. The Amazing Astrid swooped in to save me from my father and told me to take as long as I need. Dangerous words, little does she know."

Olivia's grin widened. "Well, how could I refuse a request like that? Clearly, you've got to live up your temporary freedom while you can."

"Exactly," Peter agreed with a small chuckle. "So what d'you say?"

Bringing up a hand to hide her slightly giddy smile from she knew not who, she nodded. "Sure. Why don't we meet at that diner by the lab – the burger one. You know the one I mean?"

Peter laughed. "Burgers? Why not. Yeah, I think I know the place. See you there in ten minutes?"

"Sounds perfect. See you then. Bye."

"Bye."

She ended the call still smiling. Taking off her glasses, Olivia placed them on top of the files she was reviewing and stood up, stretching slightly after having been seated for so long. As relieved as she was that there had been no cases in three days, something about it disturbed her. She had thought that the situation was escalating and had expected there to be an _increase_ in cases, not a decrease. Now there was nothing, and it left her feeling anxious. Walking into her room to get ready, however, she smiled. Lunch with Peter was just what she needed. Somehow, he always knew how to make her feel better. He knew just the things to say to make her forget for a while about killers and patterns and alternate universes—

Her gut clenched painfully at the reminder of alternate universes and Peter, and she desperately tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. Peter. Sweet, wonderful Peter… and his eerie glimmer.

Sitting down on her bed, she dropped her head into her hands and ran a hand through her hair. She felt so torn, so conflicted. Every part of her was screaming that he had a right to know, that she was hiding it from him, deceiving him, and for what? For a man who had apparently performed terrifying experiments on her as a child and done God knows what else to other people? But she knew that wasn't the only reason she hadn't told him yet. She was afraid the truth would destroy everything Peter had been building these past couple of years – with his father, with her, with himself. She was afraid she'd lose him, and she couldn't bear that.

As she stood slowly to change her clothes, her mind went unbidden back to the night they had almost kissed. Weighed down by the guilt of her imminent failure, she'd looked up into his face and seen so much – so much _love_ – and the strength of the love she'd felt in return had terrified her as well. The scars from her last relationship – another interwork one, no less – were still tender, but she couldn't stop the way she felt for Peter and she didn't really want to. When she'd admitted her fear to him, she hadn't only been referring to her inability to save those people. As he'd leaned in closer to her, she'd also meant their budding relationship, and she knew he knew that and understood. The thought of losing him too was unbearable, and it scared her so much more than she cared to admit.

She needed him, she acknowledged to herself as she pulled a gray sweater over her head. What would she do if she told him the truth about where he'd come from and he got so upset that he left altogether? What if the truth destroyed him? Either way, she'd lose him and he'd quite possibly lose himself.

She felt like a coward. She knew he deserved the truth. But she couldn't tell him. Besides, despite the fact that some days the glimmer seemed even worse than the day before – an effect of her mind, she was sure – it was getting easier every day to ignore the shimmer that surrounded him, and even easier on the phone since she couldn't see him. She'd learn to forget, and he'd go on thinking everything was normal.

Ignoring the swell of guilt that moved up her throat from her stomach, Olivia grabbed her coat and walked out the front door. She reached the diner a couple of minutes later than she'd intended to after getting caught in traffic, and she when she finally arrived, she hurried in, searching for Peter's familiar face.

He was seated at one of the well-worn 50s-style booths and grinned as soon as he caught sight of her. Standing as she approached, he leaned in to cup her elbow and place a tender kiss on her lips that she returned, desperately trying to ignore the flash of sadness that coursed through her. _I'm so sorry… but I can't lose you._ She forced herself to smile as they parted and resolutely brushed a stray hair out of his glimmering face. "Hey," she greeted softly.

He smiled back and returned the favor by tucking her hair behind one ear as he replied just as softly. "Hey."

"So you escaped the nuthouse then, huh?" she teased with a sly smirk, using one of his many nicknames for the lab as they drew apart and sat down across from one another.

He laughed. "Thanks to Astrid. Poor thing. Walter's probably wrangled her into running tests on mouse brains by now."

"_Mouse brains_?"

"You sound so shocked. This is _Walter_ we're talking about here."

Olivia had to smirk at that. "True. But why mouse brains?"

Shrugging, he smiled at her as though studying her and not really paying attention to what he was saying. She tried not to blush and to not smile too shyly… and to ignore that damn glimmer as his form flickered like a flame about to go out. She suppressed a shudder at the thought. "One of his mice died, and he's got it in his head that something in its food gave it an enzyme abnormality. I suppose stranger things have happened."

"That's for sure."

The waitress came and they ordered, turning back to one another immediately after she left, and Peter gave a wry half-smile. "Is it a bad sign that we can be unfazed by switching from talking about mouse brains to ordering burgers, do you think?"

Giving a fleeting grin, Olivia gingerly took the hand resting an inch from hers on the table and studied it, tracing her fingers along the flickering surface of his skin as if to ascertain that he was still solid, warm – _real_ – and trying to be unfazed by it as well as her mouth turned up in a tired, sad half-smile. "Probably."

He didn't miss the change in mood and the hand she was holding gently gripped hers. "Hey… Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

Her gaze flicked fearfully up to meet his concerned expression, and she hesitated for a moment as she stared into the new strangeness of his familiar face. She could tell him, she thought. Release the burden of hiding it. Maybe he wouldn't react as badly as she feared… or maybe he would react worse. It just wasn't a risk she was willing to take. Forcing a smile, she shook her head. "I'm fine."

He continued to study her, eyes unwavering and almost unreadable – but she could still read the hurt and confusion lingering there as he leaned back and dropped his gaze. "Look… Olivia… if this is too much right now… If you don't want to… you know, the whole relationship thing…" He forced a melancholy half-smile that was clearly going for reassuring and looked her in the eye. "It's ok. Really. I can wait."

It took her half a second to realize what he meant, but once she did, she was horrified. "Oh, Peter, no… I swear it's nothing like that. This," she gripped his hand and looked earnestly into his eyes with a loving smile, "This makes me happy. I promise. Don't back off now. It took us so long to get _this_ far," she teased.

Looking back up at her, he laughed softly. "True." His smiling eyes searched hers, filling with concern once again at what he apparently saw. "And you're sure there's nothing wrong?"

Determinedly holding her gaze on his glimmering face, she forced a smile one more time. "Positive."

As he held her gaze for a moment longer, she saw sorrow and confusion growing there. But, giving her hand another squeeze, he forced a smile too and nodded reluctantly. "Ok. But you know you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right?" His eyes searched her, and she knew that he knew she was lying to him. He always knew.

Her mind went back to the night of their date. Facing Walter – outraged, shocked, horrified, terrified – she hadn't been able to respond to the scientist's desperate request and implied confession at their apartment. Instead, she'd stood in tumultuous silence, too stunned to confront the man and demand the answers she craved, and before she knew it Peter had returned with his coat and led her, speechless, out the door – momentarily too distracted by his own obvious happiness to notice that she wasn't herself. He'd been so excited. It had been adorable, she'd thought, and, coming down from her own shock as she'd taken in his happiness, she'd resolved herself to make the best of the night. It wouldn't be fair to Peter otherwise. She'd demand her answers from Walter soon enough, but that night was for them. And she'd tried. She really had. But as the evening had progressed, she knew he'd eventually noticed her mood.

When they'd kissed though – the thrill of it, the gentle love of it. She suspected neither one of them had meant it to happen so soon, but as the end of the evening had neared he'd leaned in subtly, and she'd shifted up toward him, and suddenly it was happening and she'd felt a rush of joy. As she'd closed her eyes, she'd been able to forget all her worries and just _be_, just her and Peter, and for a moment she'd been so happy… but then she'd opened her eyes and seen his peaceful face still glimmering eerily and it had almost been more than she could take. She'd tried to hide her conflicted feelings from him, but they could always read each other. She should have known. And now her own inner conflict was hurting him and she found she couldn't bear that either. But what could she do?

Forcing the tears not to well in her eyes as she swallowed her sorrow, she smiled and tightly gripped his hand. "I know."

For a flicker of a moment, his pain and uncertainty was evident on his face, but he quickly covered it with a smooth smile and an abrupt clearing of his throat. _Oh, Peter, I'm sorry…_ "So," he said, obviously opting to change the subject. "Any luck looking over those case files?"

Despite herself, she let out a laugh of surprise. "How did you know I was looking over case files?"

"Please," Peter scoffed, still smiling. "No cases in three days? You must be going out of your mind wondering what's going on. Even on your day off."

Her mouth quirked up on one side in semi-reluctant acknowledgement that he had her pegged once again. "All right, you've got me."

"I knew it," he chuckled softly. "So any luck?"

"No. I still don't even know what Newton was doing when he was messing with that first building. Why _that_ one? And besides opening a portal, what exactly was he after – _is_ he after?" Tilting her head in frustration, she paused. The door jingled, and she watched a waitress seat the family of four that entered before continuing. "I feel like I should _know_, have some sort of clue, but… I've got nothing. I hate just hanging around and waiting for something to happen."

"I know," he said sympathetically, brushing his thumb against the hand he still held. "Me too. But we'll figure it out."

She smiled at him, grateful for his reassurance, and they held each other's gaze in comfortable solidarity that burned with something more… until their burgers arrived a moment later and their waitress brought them crashing back to reality by asking if they needed ketchup. Laughing to herself, Olivia thanked her, and she and Peter shared a smirk.

As they ate, Peter turned the conversation to lighter things, once again knowing without words exactly what she needed, and at one point she laughed so hard that she almost inhaled her milkshake. She even managed to make _him_ laugh, much to her satisfaction and his obvious joy. All the while she roughly suppressed her mind's plaintive question: _What would she do without him?_ Every time it popped up, she pushed the thought away, trying to focus instead on the fact that she had him now and should appreciate it. It made things a little easier, but the feeling never really went away as they continued their lunch.

They almost got to finish their meal. It would have been nice to have just been able to keep relaxing for a while and hope the world would be ok without them, that things would just carry on without anything happening that should have been outside of the realm of possibility to begin with. But when her phone rang and Broyles told her to bring the others, Peter grimly tossed the money for the bill on the table before she even got off the phone, and they exchanged a look. _Here we go again_.

****

A/N - There! Hopefully that wasn't too bad. And the excitement begins next week, so more will start happening soon! Hope you like it so far though. Thanks for reading! : )


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Hello! Thanks again for all the comments – you guys are great!

***

Chapter 3

_Tufts University_

Sabina Connors was crying. Wailing, actually – the kind of open-mouthed sob that her mother had always told her made her look like a fish. But right now she couldn't care less. Glancing over again at the lifeless body of her boyfriend, her breath hitched and her wails began anew.

She watched as a man and a woman approached Usamah's body, and the man moved to lift the tarp-like thing covering him to see what lay beneath. Such a simple motion, but it filled her with sudden, sharp anguish. "Don't touch him!" she hissed through her sobs.

The man looked over at her in surprise and then glanced up at the woman he'd come with in uncertainty. The blonde woman looked grim and something passed between the two of them before she nodded and approached Sabina. Offering a sympathetic smile, the woman squatted down next to where Sabina sat on the dusty floor of the biology lab. "Miss Connors? I'm Agent Dunham. This is Peter Bishop. We're with the FBI."

Sabina sniffled. "The FBI? I don't understand."

"We're here to investigate your boyfriend's death," the woman called Olivia Dunham explained, eyes studying her sadly. She winced almost as though pained by Sabina's obvious misery before continuing. "We were hoping you could help… We're told you witnessed the incident."

Letting out a scoffing sound, Sabina glared. "The _incident_? God, is that what this is to you people?"

Agent Dunham looked struck. As an older man approached the body, Peter Bishop threw out an admonishing "Walter!" then shook his head at him, and the older man backed off to converse confusedly with another darker-skinned woman. Then Bishop, looking at Dunham in alarm, immediately leapt to her defense. "Miss Connors, please, we're not trying to insult what happened here – I know it must be hard for you – but we need to know anything you can tell us that might help us figure out what happened. That's all Agent Dunham means."

Sabina noted the protective crouch Bishop had taken next to Dunham, the way Dunham had leaned back almost imperceptibly in grateful acceptance of his presence and, recalling their earlier wordless communication, concluded that they were a couple. It figured. Of all the FBI teams she could have gotten, she had to get the one that would unwittingly rub the loss of her boyfriend in her face the whole time they were here. She sighed, the exhalation wavering. "I don't remember much…"

"That's all right," Agent Dunham said gently. "Just tell us what you do remember."

Sabina looked into the couple's concerned faces and saw that they did actually seem to care. At least there was that. "Usamah and I…" Her breath hitched again and she closed her eyes to force herself not to look at his too-still body. "We were walking to class – we had a class together this semester, for once. W-we were so excited. We hadn't had a class together since English freshman year, since I'm a chemical engineering major and he's history and music… But anyway, we were walking past Barnum – the bio building – when he… he just…"

She struggled to explain, not really sure what had happened herself. "It was like his face went blank. He said he had to go into Barnum, that he'd just remembered he needed to talk to someone. He wouldn't say who." Tears poured from her eyes again and she fought for air, trying to pull herself together to continue. "_I didn't want to go_!" she wailed in anguish. "I should have insisted! I should have known something was wrong. He hates science! Why would he want to come into this stupid building? I sh-should have convinced him!"

Agent Dunham rested a hand on her arm, expression sorrowful but understanding. "There was no way you could have known." Sabina nodded through her sobs, and the FBI agent graciously gave her a moment to collect herself before going on in a gentle but firm tone. "What happened next?"

"He led us up to this lab in the back of the building. I-I kept asking where we were going but he wouldn't answer me. When we finally got to the lab though, he seemed to come to, and he looked around like he was just as confused as I was to be here. He turned to say something to me, but it was too late. All I saw was a flash of movement, and Usamah knocked me out of the way. He was trying to fight them off… H-he told me to get out, but I wasn't going to leave him. I went to get up, to help fight, but one of them hit me in the head from behind and I blacked out. After that, I woke up to see Usamah laying there… bleeding, and…" Her throat constricted painfully at the memory, and she looked over at his tarp-covered form, numb. "He was already dead."

"Sabina, I'm so sorry. Did you see the people who did it?" Agent Dunham asked.

She shook her head, angry at herself all over again for being so useless. "I think there were five of them… guys and girls. Maybe our age? But I didn't see their faces. I wish I had. I just don't understand how this could happen… And I didn't even see them!"

"All right – that's all right. But, Sabina, we need to examine him to find out who did this," Dunham said kindly. "And from the looks of it, you should get that head injury checked out."

"No." Sabina shook her head emphatically. "No, I won't leave him."

"Sabina—"

Staring at the body, she burst into tears again. She knew logically that she'd have to leave. She couldn't stay forever. They'd take his body away and cut it open or whatever they did to figure these things out, and hopefully it would lead them to the people who had done this. But all she could think about was the fact that he'd never smile at her again or hold her hand or kiss her or tease her for not doing her organic chemistry homework. Her shoulders shook with sobs until she couldn't see his body anymore through the tears. "He died trying to protect me, and I couldn't do a damn thing," she forced out brokenly. "Just find the bastards who did this… Just promise…"

She heard their promises only vaguely, but she felt their sincerity and it was enough. It was the only comfort she had as she finally allowed herself to be led out of the lab where her boyfriend had died.

*****

Standing next to Olivia and watching Sabina Connors leave, Peter found himself shaken despite himself. He'd seen anguish before. He'd even seen it other times doing this job. Working on cases that dealt almost exclusively in grisly deaths, he was sorry to say that it wasn't even that uncommon to come across. But Sabina Connors's anguish was still raw and bleeding as she mourned the loss of the boyfriend who had quite possibly saved her life, and somehow it made him feel like the rug had just been pulled out from underneath him. An image of Olivia, lying still in the hospital bed where she'd almost died floated to the top of his mind before he quickly submerged it again.

"Can we begin?" he heard Walter ask eagerly from behind him. Peter turned to shoot the older man a glare, but didn't respond. He wasn't completely sure why he was mad at Walter for just doing the same thing he always did: somehow managing to leave out the human component of what they did until it was convenient for him. It was just Walter being Walter. Peter didn't even know if, with his father's addled mind, he could entirely help it anymore. Nevertheless, it was that same detachment that had led Walter to do things in the past like conduct experiments on children – including Olivia – and Peter hated to be reminded that that part of his father existed at all.

Unfortunately, in this case he had a point. They needed to get to work.

Olivia collected herself first, standing up straighter and crossing her arms as she shifted her weight slightly. "Go ahead, Walter." Walter grinned and Peter squashed another wave of anger, but, face set grimly, kept his reaction to himself.

Casually lifting the tarp, Walter pulled it up to reveal the bloody, bludgeoned body of Usamah Webb. Peter couldn't help a frown of surprise as he took a step closer. The body was a mess, certainly, but it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary way of violence had happened. Olivia frowned beside him. "I don't understand."

"Interesting," Walter said, gently poking and prodding the body, muttering for several minutes over his various findings in a voice too low to understand. Making his way up to the head, he rifled through the thick black hair to examine the scalp for a moment before suddenly letting out a shout. "A_ha_! It's just as I suspected. Look—" He glanced up triumphantly at Peter, Olivia, and Astrid, who were all standing over him in clueless curiosity. "See these markings? They indicate that this boy has had _electrodes_ applied to his scalp recently!"

Astrid raised her eyebrows in confusion. "But, why?"

"Clearly, my dear, someone has been messing with this poor boy's brain!" Walter let the hair flop back into place and stood stiffly. "I suspect that it is the circumstances _surrounding_ the death and not necessarily just the death itself that is of interest in this case. But… I could be wrong. I'll still need the body sent to my lab for further study, of course." He gave a small, embarrassed laugh, as though the thought of a body _not_ getting sent to his lab were ridiculous.

"Electrodes…" Olivia's frown deepened, her eyes distant, and she dropped her hands to her sides. "His face went blank before he came in here, and he had no reason to be here in the first place…" Her eyes refocused to the sharp clarity he was used to. "Walter, do you think it was mind control or something like that that made him come here?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility, Agent Dunham. But quickly, let's get him back to the lab. There may still be time to find out, as they say," he chuckled, apparently appreciative of his own upcoming humor, "straight from the horse's mouth!"

Peter grabbed his father's arm as he went to turn away. "Wait, you mean like with that Smith guy? Hook him up to _me_ again?" he demanded, insulted but not terribly surprised his father hadn't bothered to ask him first.

Walter's eyes crinkled up at the sides, and Peter sensed another bad joke coming. He wasn't disappointed. "Well, no, son… Not unless you're a horse!"

"_Walter_."

The scientist smiled at his son, expression somehow simultaneously knowing and contrite. "Come now, Peter… Would you really refuse?"

Olivia smirked at him, obviously amused, and Peter gave her a slightly disapproving look in return. This was not funny. But he couldn't deny that it wouldn't be the first time he'd done crazy things for a case… and as much as he wanted it to be, he doubted it would be the last. These things usually came in multiples, so if they could crack the case early and prevent other incidents… He dropped his arm. "No… I guess not," he replied reluctantly.

"Splendid! Then let's get this ball _rolling_!"

As Walter, Astrid and the medical examiner crew moved in a flurry to prepare to take the body, Peter and Olivia stood and watched. After a moment, Olivia, who fallen into a pensive silence, spoke up in a quiet voice. "Do you think she was right though? That this is just another 'incident' to us?"

Peter paused – he had to admit he'd been wondering the same thing – but he shook his head after a moment. "No. I don't think we'd still be doing this if we didn't care. I mean, there are plenty of easier ways to earn a living that don't involve freakish fringe science and the constant threat of imminent doom, right? And apparently being used a human lab rat by your father."

A weak laugh escaped her lips. "That's certainly true." She hesitated, still watching the action around the body, and he knew she wasn't finished. "But don't you ever feel like we're only doing this job because of who we are? Because… we're connected to it all, in ways we can't control?"

"Yeah," Peter answered, studying her with a small smile and discreetly brushing his fingers against the back of her hand where it hung at her side. "But that's not always such a bad thing."

As he'd hoped, the fleeting moment of contact brought her back from her temporary gloom, and she smiled and made a conciliatory face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit…"

"Shaken up?" he finished, then sighed. "Yeah. Me too."

They were silent for a moment, standing close together in an attempt to seek comfort from one another, before she smiled. "Come on. We'd better get going or Walter will beat us back to the lab."

***

A/N – Because poor Tufts up in Boston never gets any love from Fringe. Not that a horrific crime set on your campus is love, per se… haha Well, it's a school I've visited anyway.

I'm hoping to be able to post a chapter next week, but things are crazy around midterms time, so I may or may not be able to. And remember, the case will end up being a catalyst for what will happen between Peter and Olivia (and Walter), so be patient! It's coming, I swear! : )


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again to those of you who commented! Enjoy the new chapter! : )

******

Chapter 4

Astrid Farnsworth walked into the lab and began to quickly set up equipment, glancing over her shoulder as the body was rolled in. The raised voices of the Bishops carried ahead of the fighting father and son before they too emerged, Walter agitated and frustrated and Peter disgruntled and incredulous. Walter hurriedly directed the men rolling the gurney to place the body in the trough she'd dragged over before turning back to his son.

"The _incompetence_ of—"

"Walter, for the last time, _it was a highway accident_. People were hurt, for crying out loud! I'm sure you're not the only one who was 'inconvenienced' by the whole thing!"

"You don't understand," the elder Bishop bit back, wagging a finger at his son. "A brain cannot be maintained indefinitely. We had a very small window of time in which to access that boy's mind and find out _definitively_ what happened before the brain starts to shut down and decay beyond retrieval! We are now on the precipice of that window due to that _insipid_ delay and the abysmal preservation conditions in that transport vehicle. We may not be able glean anything at all!"

Peter glared and opened his mouth to reply, but Olivia stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, then faced Walter firmly. "Then why don't we get started? We're wasting time."

With a final glare, Walter stormed away, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like "raspberry yogurt," and the medical examiner men exchanged an alarmed look before walking out the door as quickly as they could while still trying to seem casual. Astrid smirked and hurried to get the salt water and ice for the body. Same old story, new day.

"So do you want to get set up for your bit then?" she asked Peter contritely when she returned. A part of her was reluctant to ask. It had certainly been hard to watch last time, and she couldn't imagine what it was like to go through. She wasn't even really sure why Walter was insisting they do it. Couldn't they just do this case the old fashioned way, interviewing people and interrogating suspects and whatnot? She supposed this was potentially quicker, but still. She hated to see anyone in 'extreme discomfort,' especially any of the people she'd come to think of as friends – family, even. She sighed. "Although I suppose we've got time still until the body cools…"

Peter clenched his jaw, looking after where his father disappeared, and Astrid suddenly recalled with a swell of discomfort the revelation from last time that Walter had done this to Peter as a child. But he turned back to her after a second, brow furrowed, and shrugged. "We have to set up the rest of it too. We might as well do that first."

Olivia glanced at Astrid, then studied Peter with an expression that was somehow both confused frown and puzzled smile. "So what exactly does this involve?" she asked in a would-be casual voice, leaning back and crossing her arms suspiciously.

Astrid hesitated, surprised at the question. She'd forgotten that Olivia hadn't been there for the original run of this… procedure or whatever it should be called. She hadn't seen what it had put Peter through. But somehow she sensed it just the same, and Astrid had to marvel once again not only at her ability to read people but to read Peter in particular. Even to Astrid, who spent a considerable amount of time around him and thought she knew him pretty well, the younger Bishop could seem inscrutable. But Olivia never had a problem seeing through him. Astrid smiled inwardly, glad the two had finally started to see what she'd been suspecting for months: they were perfect for each other.

But this wasn't the moment for that. Astrid exchanged a look with Peter, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows in a look that clearly said, _You tell her_. He frowned at her, then sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck in agitation before dropping it heavily to his side. "Oh, nothing special. Walter just straps me down, hooks me up to a dead guy, shoots me full of drugs and then shoots us both through with electricity." Noting Olivia's horrified expression, he quickly backpedaled, obviously regretting his flip tone. "It's not that bad actually; Walter says it's safer than the tank, oddly enough. It's weird – really, _really_ weird – but not as bad as you'd think."

Olivia raised her eyebrows and ran a hand through her hair, looking up at him with concerned eyes. "If you say so."

He smiled gently, clearly touched by her concern, and rested a hand on her arm as he shrugged in an obvious attempt to reassure her. "Don't worry. I must be used to it on some level – apparently Walter used to do something like it to me as a kid."

Astrid winced. That certainly wouldn't reassure her personally if _her _boyfriend (if that's what he was to Olivia finally) were about to be hooked up to an electrical current. She expected Olivia's shocked expression to return, or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, for her to possibly even be relieved somehow by the fact that at least Peter wasn't worried about this. But to her surprise, Olivia's face instead hardened into a mask of coldly contained anger. The agent bowed her head and turned her face away as though trying to hide her reaction, and Astrid felt suddenly uneasy. Something was wrong.

Peter frowned as well, his grip on her arm tightening slightly, and he was clearly about to ask if she was all right before Walter suddenly returned, his shuffling walk still agitated. "Quickly! We need to get this set up!" he said as he hopped down the stairs, yogurt in hand.

Drawing away from Olivia with a final concerned glance – which Olivia stoically ignored – Peter glared at Walter and sighed. "All right, all right… Astrid?"

"I'm on it." Astrid scratched her head with nails she'd long ago learned needed to be short to avoid unidentifiable things from getting underneath, and mentally ran through a list of what they'd need. She was about to head off to grab the electrodes when she heard Olivia speak up.

"I'm uh… I'm gonna head back to Tufts, see if I can get some more information on the victim," she said as she backed away with a forced smile, avoiding Peter's gaze. Glancing briefly at Astrid, she continued. "Let me know if you guys find anything here?"

Astrid frowned. "Sure…" she replied, making an effort to turn her frown into a tense smile. But inside, Astrid was confused. Why wouldn't Olivia want to stay? Two seconds ago, they'd been adorable in their awkward attempts to express their concern for one another, and Olivia had been so obviously worried about Peter and what the procedure would do to him. Now she was just going to leave? Didn't… didn't she want to make sure that he'd be okay?

But Olivia had already turned and walked quickly out of the lab, leaving Peter standing, staring at the door with a characteristically unreadable expression on his face. Hoping to distract him from whatever was going through his no-doubt confused mind, Astrid smiled and tried to infuse her voice with an upbeat tone. "So are we doing this?"

"We most certainly _are_," Walter replied, as though affronted by the idea of anyone thinking otherwise. He jabbed the air with his spoon. "And we're running out of time. Every moment decreases our chances of—"

"I know, I know, the brain's decaying, yadda yadda," Peter interrupted, brow furrowed. "Let's just get this over with."

For the first time since they'd returned to the lab, Walter hesitated and his expression of harried frustration softened to one of concern. "Peter. I only meant…"

"I know. It's ok."

The older man hesitated, still looking regretful. He shifted from one foot to the other, yogurt temporarily forgotten. "I've modified the procedure, you know, so it won't be quite so…"

"It's ok, Walter. Really." Peter smiled reassuringly at his father, and Walter returned the smile after a moment, relaxing slightly. Astrid shook her head slightly and went to retrieve the electrodes. She'd never understand those two. One minute they'd be biting each other's heads off, and the next they'd be bonding over something seemingly ridiculous. Theirs was perhaps the most dysfunctional, unconventional father-son relationship she knew of… but it was clear they loved one another. It was really sweet, actually.

But as everyone burst into motion to set up for the procedure, Astrid couldn't help glancing at the door and worriedly thinking back on Olivia's uncharacteristic behavior. Anything that ruffled Olivia Dunham was certainly cause for concern in Astrid's opinion. Something else was going on here – something big. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was a little afraid to see what would happen when whatever it was finally came to light.

******

Olivia walked quickly out the door, walked determinedly down the steps, practically ran to her car… and stopped. Leaning against the vehicle, she fought to control her breathing.

"_I must be used to it on some level – apparently Walter used to do something like it to me as a kid."_

For the love of God, _why_? What had Walter been _doing_ to him? The thought of a young Peter hooked up to electrodes, scared and confused but trusting his father, came to her mind. The image filled her with such a strong burst of anger that it frightened her. It was all she could do not to march back into the lab and demand answers, demand to know everything, shake Walter until things made sense again.

But she couldn't, she reminded herself. Not while Peter was there. For now, he couldn't know, couldn't even suspect that anything was wrong – that he wasn't from here. _Oh, Peter…_ A crushing wave of guilt washed over her, and she leaned more heavily on the car for a moment before roughly brushing away an escaped tear with one gloved hand. No. He couldn't know.

Opening the car door, she couldn't seem to let it go, however. She started the car and furiously rubbed her eyes dry, mind still racing with questions. If Peter wasn't from this universe, then what had happened to the Peter who was? Her Peter remembered being a child, remembered Walter obviously. But she suddenly realized that not all of Peter and Walter's memories matched up. Peter's "illness," for example, that Walter was so often mentioning…

_Oh, my God…_ Peter's illness. That was it. With anything that had happened before that, Walter and Peter's memories conflicted, and somehow she'd never realized it until now. She fought to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Walter must have taken Peter somehow after that point, which could mean only one thing.

The Peter in this reality was dead.

She choked down a burst of agony. In no universe did "Peter and "dead" belong in the same sentence. But Walter's original Peter must have died as a child. After losing him, Walter must have created the portal and gone to get _her_ Peter somehow… She felt a fleeting moment of sympathy for the scientist before the feeling was swept away by a new swell of questions. But… how was that possible? It had been made very clear to her that most people couldn't just cross over to the other side without consequences. She thought of the eerie glimmer. Well, that was certainly a consequence, but what if there were other, more severe consequences that she didn't know about? She brought her hands to her mouth and tried to calm panic as a thought suddenly hit her. What if Peter wasn't stably here in this universe at all? Would he just disappear one day, like that building? What if the fact that the glimmer seemed to be getting stronger wasn't just in her head after all?

_Stop it_. Putting the car in reverse with shaking hands, she backed out of her parking spot and admonished herself firmly. As angry and confused as she was with Walter, he was good at what he did. If he had brought Peter here to this universe, then he would damn well have made sure that he'd be _staying_ here. Unless he didn't know… No. Walter knew what he was doing.

She hoped.

Turning onto the main road, Olivia tried to focus on the case as she headed back to Tufts. But her hands still shook.


	5. Chapter 5

Olivia spent the better part of the next hour wading through campus bureaucracy, trying to get a complete listing of anything and everything Usamah Webb may have been involved with recently. Her frustration focused her, and directing it at the administrators gave her an outlet for it. She felt a little bad for taking it out on them, but she wasn't being rude exactly... Still, she could tell she was definitely making them nervous as they rushed around in a flurry to get her what she needed.

Suddenly, her phone rang. Plunging a hand into her pocket to retrieve it, she gave a passing worker a severe "hurry up or else" look, morbidly amused when the man skittered away at a slightly faster pace. "Dunham."

"Agent Dunham, hi, it's Astrid."

Olivia sat up straighter in the wooden lobby chair. "Did you guys find out anything?"

"Yeah, but not as much as we were hoping for. Walter was right: the brain had already started to decay."

Olivia sighed. Disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. "Well, what did you get?"

"All Peter could hear was a series of _music notes_, repeated over and over. I wondered if it could be another equation, but Walter didn't seem to think so. Neither Walter or Peter are really sure what to make of it at this point though. Peter thought it might have something to do with the fact that he was a music minor?"

Music notes… Olivia shuffled through the papers she'd already received from the school until she finally found what she was looking for. Scanning through his records, she noted that Webb had been minoring in music, and his schedule showed that he had been taking chorus this semester. "Astrid? I might have an idea. I'll come in and run it by Walter." She paused, swallowing thickly and leaning forward onto her legs as she worked up the courage for her next question. "How's, uh…how's Peter?"

"He's fine," Astrid replied in a hard to read voice. "Walter was able to alter the procedure, so it wasn't as bad as last time. It went pretty well, actually." Olivia immediately relaxed. Peter was all right.

But she was still trying to place the tone of Astrid's voice. It seemed both sympathetic and… accusatory? Did she blame her for leaving the way she had? She recalled with sudden clarity the look of hurt and confusion that had been on Peter's face as she'd left, and she felt a swell of guilt for what must have been the hundredth time that day. An awkward pause fell between them before Astrid spoke again in a hushed voice. "Look, Olivia, if you were wondering about what Walter did to Peter as a child … Well, I don't know if it has anything to do with… _anything_ really, but I feel like I should tell you something Walter said to me."

Olivia frowned, a cold feeling settling in her gut. "What is it?"

"When Peter was infected with that virus and Walter and I were trying to find the cure, Walter said something… strange. He said he couldn't let Peter die – again. Maybe… that's why Walter was using the electrodes on him? I think… I think Peter might have died once before."

She swallowed around the lump that had returned in her throat. "I know – or, at least, I suspected." The cold feeling in her stomach solidified at the confirmation of her earlier thoughts, and she brusquely shoved away questions about how many of her other panicked suspicions had been right as well.

"I don't understand… How could you have suspected that?"

Opening her mouth before bringing a hand up to cover it, she hesitated. Astrid was always so reliable, and it would be such a relief to be able to tell _someone_, to not be carrying the burden of her secret alone… but should she tell her? It went against her nature, but as much as she hated to admit it, Olivia needed someone in her corner. Normally, she would confide in Peter, but that obviously wasn't an option for this. She could have told Charlie, but… her throat tightened painfully. "Is Peter anywhere he could overhear you?"

"No, he's in the back trying to get some rest. Why?"

"You have to promise not to tell him. Astrid, above anything, he _can't know_."

"All-all right. But… what's going on?"

Olivia took a deep breath, forcing it out in a ragged exhalation as she brought her hand to her forehead and dropped her voice. "Peter… glimmers."

"Oh." There was a pause. "_Oh_. Oh my God…"

******

"Astrid, you can't tell him. We can't. Not yet." Olivia's worried voice cut through the fog that had enveloped Astrid's mind, and she blinked as her shock started to fade.

"No. No, of course not…" she quickly reassured her, glancing nervously over her shoulder to make sure Peter hadn't woken and come into the room or something. She was suddenly glad Walter was in the back too. "It's just… Oh my God. And he has no idea, does he." The junior agent dropped her voice sympathetically, thinking of how long Olivia must have been holding this in. She couldn't imagine how stressful that must have been. "How long have you known?"

She heard a bitter hiss of a laugh from the other end of the line. "Since the night he and I went out for drinks."

"Oh, Olivia…" No wonder she'd been on edge lately. Astrid suddenly felt bad for blaming her for leaving Peter right before the procedure. He'd just seemed so quiet after the fact… She'd felt so bad for him. But Olivia must have just been trying to keep it together and keep from telling him, and the reminder of what Walter had done to Peter as a child had just been too much to deal with at the moment. Her heart clenched painfully at how sad it all was. The two of them had finally started to get their relationship together… and now this. It could easily destroy them. Astrid hesitated. "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Try to act normal, I guess."

Astrid nodded. Not telling Peter did seem like the better option. She just couldn't see the alternative leading to anything but a complete rupture of whatever semblance of a relationship Walter and Peter had finally managed to patch together. She knew whatever Walter had done was about as ethically dodgy as it got. Still, she couldn't bear the thought of the man she'd grown to be so fond of over the past couple of years losing his only son – again. Walter wasn't the same man he had been. And Peter seemed so glad to have his father back. Surely there was a better way? She sighed. "I think that's for the best. Olivia, if there's anything I can do…"

Olivia's voice was grateful but obviously bone tired as she replied. "Thanks, Astrid. I'll be back at the lab in about a half an hour."

"All right. We're just about to start the autopsy. Hopefully we'll have more information by the time you get back."

As she hung up with Olivia, Astrid glanced around the now familiar lab, noting Gene chewing her cud in the corner, the tanks of mice on the counter, the twenty-odd-year-old lab equipment that somehow still worked. She hugged her arms to herself, suddenly cold. Why did things always have to be so complicated?

******

A half an hour later, Olivia walked in to find the front area of the lab deserted. Frowning, she hung her coat on the coat rack. "Hello?" Taking a few steps in and crossing her arms, she craned her neck to see into some of the back rooms. The lights were on… Clearly someone was here. "Peter? Astrid? Walter?"

A moment later, Walter's head peeked out from the doorway of one of the rooms. Catching sight of her, his expression turned to one of nervous welcome. "Oh… Hello, Agent Dunham!"

"Walter," she greeted cautiously. The sight of him still caused a burst of anger and distrust, but she swallowed down the feeling with difficulty. She didn't have time for that now. There was a case to solve. She'd always found solace in work, and she was doing her best to bury herself in it this time, for all the good it was doing her. "Where are the others?"

He shuffled out from the doorway and down the stairs. "Oh! Well, Agent Farnsworth just stepped out momentarily to get me something at the store, and Peter…" He made a motion toward one of the back rooms before bringing a finger to his lips in a shushing sign and smiling. He dropped his voice to a loud whisper. "Peter's taking a nap. You'll never be able to wake him though – once he's out, he's _out_. Been that way ever since he was a boy."

He chuckled to himself, but his expression faded when he caught sight of her less-than-amused face. She couldn't hear him talk about Peter as a boy right now. Not yet.

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat awkwardly and forced a smile, obviously aware of her line of thought. "At any rate, he's asleep."

She let herself silently fume for a moment in the awkward silence that had fallen between them, trying to push her thoughts away to focus on the case. _You experimented on me, you experimented on _Peter_… How could you? You took him from his family; he might have been happy there, and after everything you've put him through here… What have you done, Walter?_ Finally, she couldn't contain it anymore, and she hissed out in a low voice. "What were you doing to him – when he was a child? Why did you hook him up to those electrodes?"

Walter paled. "I… _Olivia_..." He swallowed, looking desperate and suddenly childlike in his plaintive fear as he continued in a begging voice. "You promised you wouldn't tell him!"

Taking two quick steps toward him, she glared. "I promised no such thing! And just because I haven't told him yet, don't think that I won't if I need to!"

"But you _haven't_ told him yet," Walter pointed out quietly. "Which means you understand why he _can't_ be told. You must have figured most of it out by now." He shook his head and inhaled sharply, teary eyes pleading. "You know why. You can't afford to lose him any more than I can."

Turning her head away abruptly, she dropped her gaze. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, struggled to calm her frustrated, ragged nerves, and realized dimly that she couldn't deal with this right now. Crossing her arms to hide her trembling hands, she turned her glare back to Walter and tried to shove her desperate questions to the back of her mind again. She couldn't deal with this. "I won't tell him – for now. But as soon as this case is over?" She fought to control the unsteady quaver in her voice. "I expect _answers_, Walter."

He forced a smile, but she noted that he was trembling as well. "Of-Of course."

Running a hand over her face, she let out a wavering breath and nodded over toward the half-autopsied corpse on the table, desperate to have something else to focus on. "Did you find anything else?"

"Yes!" Walter offered a weak smile and hurried over to the body. Picking up a tray with a dissected brain on it, he brought it over to the counter near her and put it down. "As-as I'm sure Agent Farnsworth told you, we were unable to obtain as much information as we'd hoped due to the fact that Mr. Webb's brain had already begun to decay," he began, then poked at the brain with a scalpel. "But look – do you see _that_?"

Olivia glanced down at the slimy mess of a brain, then up the scientist, eyes wide and impatient. "See what, exactly?"

"The _lesions_, dear – this boy's brain is full of them! There's no reason for it in a boy his age! Not only that, but I can't think of any medical conditions that would lead to this sort of effect – save one."

"Mind control," she said with certainty. So they'd been right about that after all.

Walter nodded. "Yes, exactly. The victims of that Tyler boy were the only cases of these sorts of lesions that I've seen. Just to be sure, however… I don't suppose there was anything in his medical record that might have explained it…?"

"No." Olivia fished out the file and handed it to him. "I've been looking at it, and he was apparently in perfect health as far as his doctors were concerned."

"Hmm. Yes, that's what I thought." He flipped folder shut after glancing through it. "This is good news though!"

The front door opened and shut, and Astrid walked in with a smile and a grocery bag. "What's good news?"

"Ah, you're just in time, Asterisk! I have a feeling we're about to make a breakthrough!" He gratefully accepted the grocery bag and retrieved a devil dog with a grin. He bit into it with enthusiasm. "Now we just need to find the mechanism for the mind control!"

"I may have an idea about that. Webb was a music minor and he was taking chorus this semester. That means he could have been exposed pretty regularly to something like the music notes Astrid said Peter heard. Is it possible he was somehow…" Olivia struggled to put her theory into words. "I don't know… _programmed_? Could the choir have been like weekly upgrades?"

"It's possible, I suppose… Although, there would have needed to be some other sort of initial stimulus, to begin the process… No, there must be something we're still missing." He frowned. "We're close to _something_ though, I can feel it!"

Astrid smiled as she took off her coat. "We'll figure it out, Walter."

The scientist's frown turned instantly to a grin as he looked up at her. "Of course we will! It's all very exciting, really. It's such a relief to have a good _case_ to work on!"

Another wave of anger flooded Olivia. She was already on a short fuse, and Walter seemed intent on setting her off. He was _glad_ they had another case? What she wouldn't _give_ just to have it all stop altogether… Every case ended with more people dead, more unanswered questions. She barely felt any closer today to figuring out what it all meant than her first day on the job, and the thought filled her with a wave of helplessness and failure. They still had no idea if they could trust William Bell or even what his role in all this had been. Newton was still out there somewhere, doing who knew what… Rubbing her temple absently in response to the dull ache in her head, she frowned. "I think I'll go wake Peter."

"An excellent idea!" Walter exclaimed, still caught up in the thrill of their near-breakthrough. "He'll certainly have some ideas as to—" Suddenly, he caught site of her expression, and his face fell. Astrid looked on uncomfortably. "I-I'm sure he'll be able to help."

Olivia nodded mutely. Catching sight of Astrid's encouraging smile, however, she relaxed slightly. The younger agent was right. They could get through this. She just needed to act normal. Returning the smile weakly, she turned away and headed toward the room where Peter was sleeping.

To her surprise, the light was still on in the small back room, and she assumed he had fallen asleep that way. Peter was unconscious, sprawled out on the small cot as though it were a king size mattress, and she couldn't help smirking at the image, tension fading. Only Peter could be so dead to the world in such an uncomfortable sleeping situation. She supposed he must be used to it, from all his travels, but it still never ceased to amaze her.

Leaning against the doorjamb, she took a moment to admire him. His strong shoulders sloped smoothly to where the rest of his body was half-covered by an ancient-looking plaid blanket. His hair stuck up at odd angles against the white of the pillowcase, and his face was buried firmly in the fabric. In the harsh overhead light, she could barely even see the glimmer. He looked peaceful. Normal. Goofy, even. It was an adorable side of him that she didn't usually see, and she had to suppress a laugh at the sight.

Stepping into the room, she hesitated only a moment before seating herself on an available piece of the cot and timidly placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't stir at the touch, but he felt warm and real and familiar. It was comforting. It felt _right_, and she let out a breath that she felt like she'd been holding for days. No matter what happened, as long as he was here, it would be all right. She was filled with a sudden longing to see the blue of his eyes, to see his face smiling back at her with that half smile of his, and she smiled slyly as a thought hit her. She'd act normal. She'd act better than normal, and she knew just how to wake him.

******

Peter vaguely felt something shaking his shoulder through the fog of sleep, but the dominant, drowsy part of his mind stubbornly dismissed the feeling as an impossibility. His leaden limbs refused to move anyway. On feeling the gentle shaking again, however, he rolled over onto his back and heard himself make a small grunt of protest—

That was suddenly silenced by a pair of lips pressing gently against his.

His eyes flew open to see Olivia's face centimeters above his as she pulled away with a coy smile that drove him nuts. As he worked his way into a seated position, she leaned in again and he eagerly met her halfway in a slow, burning kiss that set every part of him on fire.

He was definitely awake now.

There was a fervor to her kiss that tied him in knots, and he happily reciprocated, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek before they slowly pulled apart to lean against each other, forehead to forehead. Meeting her green eyes and feeling heady in a combination of exhilaration and grogginess, he laughed. "Well, hello to you too."

She crinkled her nose and let out a small laugh. "Well, Walter said nothing could wake you when you got in a deep sleep. I had to resort to drastic measures."

"I like these measures. I should let you wake me up more often," he teased in a voice still gravelly from his nap. Her way of waking him certainly made him want to do anything but sleep…

Suddenly, he feigned a frown, and Olivia's smile turned to concern. "What?"

"This doesn't make me sleeping beauty, does it?"

Eyes lighting up as a surprised laugh bubbled past her lips, she gently hit him on the shoulder. He grinned. "_No_," she replied with a grin of her own, then laughed again. "Not unless you want it to, I guess…"

"Hmm… I'm gonna pass." Brushing her hair back, he smiled, barely resisting the temptation to draw her into a long kiss again. "So what did I miss? Did I snooze through any breakthroughs?" His brain suddenly caught up with his body, and the memory of her leaving rushed back along with all the feelings of hurt and confusion. "And when did you get back?"

A guilty frown creased her face, and she averted her eyes momentarily. "Peter… I'm sorry I left the way I did." He felt her fingers trace a feather-soft path along his cheek, and he studied the quiet desperation and apology behind her eyes in concern. But she offered no further explanation as she continued. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said dismissively, still studying her. "But honestly? I'm more worried about you."

Her gaze flitted back up to his, and they steadily held each other's gaze. After a moment, she smiled softly, and something in her shoulders relaxed. "I'm fine."

He wanted to argue with her, to point out that her behavior lately had been anything but fine for her. Even now, the willingness with which she initiated physical contact bordered on uncharacteristic. Not that he minded – quite the opposite, in fact – but in the past he'd always known to keep his distance with her unless the circumstances called for it. Olivia Dunham was a private person who had been hurt too many times in the past to be trifled with, and the iron wall she'd erected around herself had an almost tangible feel to it. When she'd needed it, he'd always been willing to be there to comfort her in any way he could, but he could count on one hand the number of times that comfort had been given physically prior to this new stage in their relationship.

He wasn't sure if her increasing willingness to touch and be touched was a sign of her finally letting him in emotionally or if it was something else entirely. It almost felt desperate, like she was trying to check to see if he was still there, like she was afraid he'd leave. He didn't know how to reassure her, especially when he wasn't sure if that was really the issue at all. He'd always had a tendency to read too much into things, and he supposed this was no exception. He was a diehard conspiracy theorist, after all.

Nevertheless, as he continued to examine her and let her words sink into him, he knew that for once she was telling the truth. In this moment, at least, her eyes were peaceful as they watched him, still sad underneath, still hiding something, but she really was fine – for now. And that only confused him all the more. For the life of him, he wasn't sure what to make of the loving secrecy he read off her. Sighing in frustration, he traced his own gentle path along the line of her jaw. "Olivia…"

"Peter, _I'm fine_," she whispered before leaning in and drawing him into another kiss. Returning the kiss and briefly considering that it might be a smokescreen to keep him from asking more questions, he nevertheless admitted defeat and melted into the feel of her. It just felt _right_. After a moment, she pulled away and smiled faintly. "Come on. Walter wants to brainstorm with you about a potential development in the case."

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her cheek as he tucked her hair behind one ear. "Do we have to?" He'd rather stay here. Things were simpler here, when it was just him and her. And he was tired of worrying.

She smirked. "Yes, we have to." Taking his hand in hers, she helped him up, but didn't release the hand as she led him out of the room. He let her. She might be confusing the hell out of him at the moment, but wherever Olivia went, he would too. He'd passed the point of no return so long ago that he couldn't even see it anymore. He just wished he could find a way to make her understand that.

******

A/N- Next time (hopefully Friday), confrontations and revelations begin! Finally! : D


	6. Chapter 6

"We're sure about this guy?" Peter asked for the second time in the past ten minutes. "We think _this_ guy is a mind controlling mastermind? Really?"

He glanced at Olivia incredulously before turning to study the choir director again from their seats in the back of the auditorium. Stanley Sturgis was relatively young, maybe in his mid 30s, round face somehow not matching the gawky body that Peter suspected would never fully outgrow its adolescent appearance. He waved his conducting stick as though it were a magic wand, and Peter wasn't entirely convinced from his motions that the man didn't believe that it was one on some level. Sturgis gradually slowed the tempo before waving the stick abruptly back and forth to stop his choir. "No, no, no… this section is pianissimo! The energy needs to come from how _soft_ and _tense_ you can make it, not how _loud_. Let's try it again, pick up to measure… 27. The concert's in one week, people!"

A kid in the third row rolled his eyes, and Peter smirked. He could relate.

Olivia looked uncertain too, but she shrugged. "We did decide back at the lab that he was the most likely link. Not only is he the director of the choir Webb was in, but he consulted on the psych experiment Webb participated in too."

"You know, I'm starting to be very leery of that particular class requirement," he said, leaning in toward her and waving a finger conspiratorially. "If you're taking a psych class, no way should you be forced to participate in psych experiments in order to get credit. Between this and some of my father's experiments, I'm definitely getting the impression those kids get a raw deal."

She smirked at him fondly and shook her head as she interlocked her fingers with his. "Well, I can't argue with that." Returning the smirk, he turned his gaze back to the choir director and thought back to last night. After roving through the files Olivia had gotten from the school, they'd finally pieced together a theory of what had happened that built on Olivia's original idea. The psych experiment that Webb had been involved in had dealt with determining how different people – musically inclined or not – perceived note intervals. In order to do so, it had involved applying electrodes to the test subjects to read their brain waves.

Walter suspected the electrodes had done much more, however. He thought that they had been used as the initiating step in the process of mind control, imprinting the brains with the basis for the "programming," as Olivia had called it. Students in the choir had been encouraged to participate as well, and many of them had. Once in choir, the participants were regularly updated somehow, using that sequence of notes that he'd heard. They still weren't sure exactly how yet, though. He supposed that would have been too easy. He struggled to bring his attention back to the present – and immediately stiffened at what he heard.

"Olivia – that's it, that's the note sequence!" he whispered tensely. He studied the faces of the choir, noting that over half of the hundred faces had gone blank, even as they continued singing. If he hadn't been looking for something like it, he could have missed it entirely.

"So that's it, then," Olivia said, shaking her head in disbelief and bringing a hand to her chin. "Now we just need to prove it."

"How?" he asked. "Do you think Sturgis will crack?"

She shrugged. "He might. But I'm hoping something comes up with the facial recognition Astrid is running. I don't know, I just get the feeling something's wrong with Sturgis' record."

"An alias?"

"Could be."

Peter shook his head as they stood and left the auditorium. Olivia quickly made the call for the choir director and the psychologist from the experiment, Frankfurt, to be brought in for questioning, and they got in the car and headed to the station.

An hour later, the scientists had cracked. As it turned out, both of them had been using aliases. Under their original names, they'd both done a considerable amount of research for – of all places, surprise surprise – Massive Dynamic. Once they'd left the company, they'd been cited for unapproved illegal experiments with human test subjects and had had to change their names to avoid arrest. Sturgis's geeky choir director persona was also apparently a façade – that man was downright cold and contained during interrogation… until he'd cracked.

The only thing the two had been too scared to reveal was the name of who was funding their research, the goal of which was, from what he could tell, to create a mind controlled army. Webb's death had apparently been due to a malfunction – he'd been too close to a meeting meant to reprogram several of the others, and their standing orders were to kill anyone that stumbled on the secret. The only reason the girl had lived was that they'd thought she was dead.

A mind controlled army – clearly a flawed one, but Sturgis's and Frankfurt's creation was still unnerving. Their aliases were the kind that had either been bought with an absurd amount of money or given by someone inside the government itself. The fact that further inquiries into the source of their funding had been shut down was not encouraging. As usual, they were both frustrated by the lack of answers, but at least the two scientists would be in jail for life, even if their employers hadn't been caught – yet.

Back in the car on their way back to the lab, Peter let out a relieved sigh. "You know, as much as I hate to be proven wrong about Sturgis and his buddy, I'm glad we caught the guy. Messing with brains always creeps me out. And they were teachers – those kids _trusted_ them." He shook his head in disgust and relaxed into the passenger seat, watching rivulets of rain streak across the windshield only to be swept away by the windshield wipers.

"Yeah…" Olivia's voice was faint and noncommittal, and he glanced over in concern to see her troubled face staring blankly at the dark road ahead.

"Hey…" Reaching over, he touched her arm to simultaneously reassure her and ask what was wrong. She was doing it again, that cryptic thing she'd been doing lately, and he felt the old worry rekindle.

But she shook her head and smiled, as usual. "Just tired."

_Just tired, my ass_.

A moment later, however, they'd pulled into a parking spot at Harvard and she turned the car off, plunging them into relative darkness in this deserted part of the campus. He went to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Suddenly, he felt Olivia grip his arm tightly and he saw a look of horror on her face in the flash of light from a car turning a corner a street away. His stomach dropped out. "What's wrong?"

She continued to stare for a moment before she seemed to come to. Releasing his arm, she abruptly turned away and got out of the car. "Nothing," she muttered as she shut the car door.

Her hands were shaking, he realized dimly. Olivia's hands were shaking. Why were Olivia's hands shaking? "Not so fast," he said as he hurriedly got out after her. This had to _end_. He stood facing her in the ice cold rain and shook his head with a concerned glare, pointing back at the car. "Olivia, that was not 'nothing!' What the hell is going on?"

"Peter, just drop it," she begged. She shook her head and took a step back, away from him.

Just as quickly, he stepped forward and gently grabbed her arm. "Not this time, Olivia, come on—"

"Peter, I said _drop_ it," she snapped in a low voice raw with anguish. "Please… just let it go!" Wrenching her arm free, she turned and walked quickly toward the lab, leaving him standing in the rain.

"_Olivia_!"

Shocked, he just watched her walk away, temporarily unable to move. He'd never seen Olivia react like that before. Sure, she had her moments where she cracked a little, they all did… but not like this. He recalled the look of absolute horror that had been on her face, the strength of her grip on his arm, the anguish in her voice, and he felt his shock harden into resolve. No way could he just drop this.

***********

Peter didn't just glimmer, he _burned_. In the sparse light of their parking spot, he was the brightest thing around, his figure spitting and flaring with brilliant light that eerily refused to share its glow. It cast no shadows, did nothing to brighten the darkness of the car. But it burned just the same.

Terrified, she instinctively grabbed his arm. At any moment, she expected them to be pulled to the other side. She gripped him tighter, desperately hoping that if she could hold on tight enough, she could keep him here, somehow protect him… At last, the burning faded to a slightly brighter version of the by-now-familiar glimmer, and she felt her trembling body relax.

Realizing that she was still holding his arm, she looked up into his face and saw his terrified confusion. She barely heard his words as she released his arm and did her best to flee. She didn't even fully register what she herself said to him in reply. Only one thing seemed important at the moment: _she had to talk to Walter_. Distantly noting the hurt and shocked expression on his face, she freed herself from his gentle grasp. She hurried away toward her new goal, shivering from more than the cold.

Stalking into the lab, she practically ran to room in the far back where Walter and Astrid were playing some card game. Their smiles of greeting faded as she leaned menacingly toward the scientist and growled, "We need to talk. _Now_."

"Olivia?" Peter's voice echoed suddenly through the lab a moment later. "Olivia, come on…"

She glared at Walter and lowered her voice further. "Alone."

Nodding, looking terrified, Walter rushed out of the room to get rid of Peter. Astrid looked up at her in fearful confusion and whispered, "Olivia, what's going on?"

She shook her head and sat, staring blankly ahead with a glare fixed on her face. She needed to talk to Walter. For now, she just had to stay out of sight.

"Son, there you are!" she heard Walter say from the front of the lab. "I'm so glad you're back. I-I need you to get me something at the store."

"Not now, Walter – have you seen, Olivia?"

"Agent Dunham?" There was a pause and Olivia tensed, waiting to hear what he'd say. "I-I heard someone come in a moment ago and then leave… It might have been her, I suppose."

Peter heaved a ragged sigh. "Well, did you see her? Did she mention where she might be going?"

"I…"

"_Focus_, Walter! Did she say where she was going?" The sharp, desperate edge to Peter's voice took her aback, and she stoically ignored the curious, concerned glances that Astrid was sending her. Burying her face in her hands, she waited.

"No." Walter's response was barely audible. "No, she didn't say."

She heard a slamming noise, and then a hushed, "Damn it! I didn't see her pass me on my way in, so she can't have headed back to the parking lot… Which means wherever she's going, she's going on foot – in this weather? Damn it, Olivia, what are you thinking?" Another sigh. "I'm going after her. Is Astrid here?"

"Yes…"

"Good. Stay here until I get back," he ordered firmly. "And if Olivia comes back, just… just try to keep her here – and call me. Please." A moment later the front door slammed shut.

There was a pause. "Olivia, what is going _on_?" Astrid asked again.

Shaking her head, she numbly repeated her previous request. "I need to talk to Walter. Alone." Unburying her face from her hands, she looked plaintively up at Astrid. "Astrid, please." After a moment, the younger agent nodded reluctantly and left as Walter returned, glancing over her shoulder before disappearing. Truthfully, it didn't really matter if she left – she'd probably overhear it all anyway – but Olivia couldn't bear another face right now.

Walter sat down across from her, and the two stared at each other for a moment before Walter spoke up timidly. "Olivia…?"

"It's getting worse," she finally forced out hoarsely. "The glimmer. It's getting _worse_, Walter… How do you explain that?"

"No, that's not possible…" His wrinkled face paled, and he shook his head roughly, a stubborn frown creasing his face. "That can't be. I took precautions to ensure that that wouldn't happen—"

"What precautions?" she demanded. "What the hell did you do to him, Walter? After your Peter died, you stole this Peter from his _family_ – what, you just snatched him in the middle of the _night_? No wonder he had nightmares! And then what? What did you _do_ to him, Walter?"

Walter's whole body shook with barely suppressed tears. "You don't know what it's like to lose a son…"

"No, I don't," she conceded with a sigh, filling with pity and anger at the pathetic figure the weeping scientist cut in the room. "But if you don't want to lose him again, I need to know everything. What precautions did you take?"

"The electrodes…" he began hesitantly. He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment before finally dissolving into tears. "I don't remember!" he sobbed in confusion. "All I remember is that it should have worked! What you're saying just can't be – it should have worked!"

"Well, it _didn't_! Whatever you did, Walter, it didn't work! The glimmer is worse, dammit! How do you _explain_ that?"

"I can't!" He shook his head desperately. "I don't know!"

"No, that's not good enough," she snapped, fear and fury taking over any semblance of pity. She wouldn't lose Peter. Not like this. "Think! What could have gone wrong? What's changed since then?"

Shaking his head silently, he opened and closed his mouth for a moment before abruptly getting up from the table and wandering into the front of the lab, looking lost. She followed him quickly, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to get him to focus. "_Think_, Walter! What's changed?"

His eyes stared blankly into the distance for a moment. "The… the doorway…" he said in a stuttering whisper. "It's possible…" Shaking his head, a fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes. They refocused on her face in desperation as he clearly realized the answer. "Oh, dear _God_…"

"_What_, Walter?"

"It's possible…" He swallowed, hesitating as though willing himself not to believe his own words. "The more the universes come together, the more that barrier is crossed… the less stable it becomes. The less stable _Peter_ becomes. Here."

Forcing herself not to panic, she nodded and spread her hands. "Ok… so what do we do? How do we fix it?"

He buried his face in his hands and sank down onto a stool. "That's just it – I have no idea. I don't even remember what I did in the first place…"

"That's not _good_ enough—"

"Damn it, don't you think I know that?" he snapped in return, eyes flashing angrily. "I'm telling you I can't remember!"

"And I'm telling you I don't give a damn!" Olivia retorted sharply, fighting back her own tears. "If he's becoming less stable in this universe, then find a way to stabilize him – find a _new_ way, for all I care, just find a way!"

"Olivia, I don't know _how_, I don't _remember_…"

Sighing in frustration, she ran a hand through her hair and ran through solutions. "We have to tell him."

"No!" Walter objected loudly, expression once again filled with fearful desperation. "He'll never forgive me! He'll leave, he'll—"

"Walter, you have to tell him!" she growled. "If you don't, I swear to God I will! You have to tell him, and you have to give him the choice, to stay here or go back. He has a right to know, dammit, you have to fix this! _Tell_ him!" The man made no response. Filled with disgust at his tearful silence, she turned toward the door—

To see a soaking wet Peter standing there. His jaw was clenched and his brow was furrowed in a stolid glare as his eyes darted from her to Walter. "Tell who what?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but found that she couldn't speak past the lump in her throat. Shooting a glare at Walter as the tears finally escaped from her eyes, she shook her head and left Walter to his explanation. She, on the other hand, had some serious wallowing to do. If she stayed here any longer, she'd shatter more than she already had.

***********

Barely resisting the instinct to go after Olivia, Peter stared at his father. Somehow he knew that Walter was where the answer would eventually come from. Walter was the source. "Tell who what, Walter? What's going on?" His glare deepened. "What did you say to Olivia? Are you the reason she's been acting the way she has lately?" Walter continued to return his gaze blankly, and Peter took a step forward to shake the man lightly by his shoulders, fear and frustration tightening his gut. "Walter! What did you _do_ to her?"

Letting out a bitter, tear-soaked laugh, Walter shook his head. "Nothing directly," he whispered after a moment. "I'm afraid… it's something I've done to _you_, son." He saw tears welling up in Walter's eyes, and he frowned in confusion. What was going _on_?

"Walter!"

The scientist shook his head, eyes pleading. "Please don't judge me too harshly, once you know…"

"Know _what_?"

"Son… when you were a boy, you were very sick."

"Yeah, Walter, I've heard that story a hundred times by now. For the last time: _I don't remember it_. Now just tell me what the hell you did to Olivia!"

Walter shook his head, tears falling silently down his face. He sucked in a wavering, watery breath, staring at Peter with something in his eyes that immediately set off warning bells in his mind. Something was seriously wrong, and he suddenly didn't want to know what it was. "Peter – _son_," his father choked out, expression desperate and hesitant, "there's a reason you don't remember that incident, the one from when you were a boy."

He clenched his jaw. "And what's that?"

Walter continued to stare at him, then brought his shaking hands up to hold Peter's face, on the edge of sobbing. He hesitated for a painful moment before speaking in a rough whisper. "_You died_."

The simple sentence sent a chill through Peter, but he gave a gruff discomforted laugh as he gripped Walter's wrists. "Ok… I died," he repeated, the words feeling strange coming out of his mouth, but he struggled to shake off the feeling that there was more. "So… what? You brought me back from the dead or something? That's creepy, Walter, but hardly the weirdest thing we've come across."

But Walter couldn't answer. He shook his head again, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs as he continued to stare at him, and the shaking hands holding his face drifted to his shoulders and then back to his face. The warning bells blared a little louder. Peter worked to control his breathing and floundered for a way to regain control of a conversation he sensed was rapidly approaching a place he didn't want to go. "Walter?" he demanded sternly.

At last, the older man released a choked sob. His head bowed in agony, and his mouth opened and shut a few times before he finally spoke in an anguished voice. "Peter… Understand – I did it because I love you. You're my son. You're _my_ son. I needed you." He sniffled and shook his head. "But I didn't bring you back from the dead."

"Then what?" He resented the small shake that had entered his voice. When Walter dissolved into agonized silence again, his tone grew sharp and he gripped the wrists tighter. "Walter, then _what_?"

"You're from the other side!" he sobbed at last. "That's why I created the doorway from here to there in the first place, to go and bring you back. Peter, you're my _son_, I needed to—"

But Peter wasn't listening anymore. The cold weight of shock settled in his stomach, a buzz echoed in his ears. He stared at the man in front of him without seeing him as his mind struggled to grasp Walter's words. No… that wasn't possible. He couldn't possibly…

Pushing Walter's hands away, he stepped backwards, took a deep, ragged breath. Before he knew it, his numb feet were carrying him toward the exit. He vaguely noted Astrid's tear-streaked face and the sound of Walter crying before he opened the door and slammed it behind him.

***********

A/N- Oh no! What now?? Hopefully I'll be able to update in the middle of next week, so you won't be waiting too long to find out. Thanks for reading! : )


	7. Chapter 7

Olivia sat at her kitchen table, numb. She gazed absently into the dregs of her third glass of whiskey. She swirled it lightly, admiring the golden color as she wondered for the hundredth time how she'd gotten here, alone and not-quite-drunk in her half-lit apartment. Taking another swig of the beverage, she corrected herself: alone and not quite drunk _enough_ in her half-lit apartment.

The yawning emptiness of the apartment was suffocating. It gave her mind too much leave to wander, and she couldn't bear the form of torture it chose to inflict. All she could see was Peter's face. Peter's smile. Peter's frown. Peter's confusion as he'd stood in the doorway of the lab… Reaching for the bottle, she poured herself another glass, hesitated, then tipped in a little more. After everything she'd learned in the past few days, she wasn't sure she'd _ever_ be drunk enough, and she didn't bother to fight the tears when they came. What was the point?

Peter was probably gone by now. Walter must have told him, and Peter would have left. She wondered where he'd go. Iraq? Somewhere else entirely? Somewhere he hadn't made a name for himself yet, where he hadn't left anyone still burning from the impression he'd made? No matter where he ran though, she knew that he would never be able to outrun the truth that now haunted them. Neither could she. But she also knew they'd both try to anyway, at least briefly. It was who they were: stubborn to a fault.

She should have stayed, she berated herself brutally as she took another sip. She should have stayed while Walter told him. She could have kept him here, kept him from running again… but it didn't really matter, she supposed. In the end, he would have left her one way or another. Either he would have left by choice or he would have been taken from her, another victim of the coming storm that she couldn't seem to understand or prevent. Some guardian of the doorway, she was. She laughed bitterly and took another swig.

If she was really the best they had, then clearly someone had goofed.

A hesitant knocking suddenly echoed from the other room, and she frowned. She glanced at the clock. 12:35AM? Must be someone for one of the neighbors, she thought, willing them to stop their knocking and just leave her alone. After all, who would be visiting her? Rachel had her own apartment and was no doubt asleep right now – not that Olivia could talk to her sister about this anyway. It couldn't be Charlie – Charlie was dead. It couldn't be Peter… Peter was gone.

The knocking sounded more firmly, and Olivia was forced to admit that the sound was, in fact, coming from her own front door. Placing her glass on the table, she got up to look through the peephole, not believing what she saw. She quickly unlocked her door and swung it open, staring at the man in front of her through her tears. They studied each other in silence for a moment before she found her voice. "Peter?"

He let out a short, broken laugh, looking miserable. "Olivia… are you _drunk_?" The laugh was a shadow of what it should have been, completely mirthless, and the realization pierced her heart. Sadness and confusion dripped off him like the droplets of rain that had drenched his clothes. She noticed he wasn't wearing a coat.

"Not quite," she replied, still confused by his presence even as she moved to let him inside. Shutting and locking the door behind him, she shook her head and stared at him as if he were a ghost. Maybe he was. Maybe she was actually a little too drunk, she thought. In truth she knew that she was just tipsy, but how else was it possible that he was here, except as some sort of hallucination an intoxicated mind had conjured up for some devious purpose of its own? Reaching out, however, she touched her hand to his soaking wet shirt and instantly knew this was real. She felt the tears returning as she turned her gaze up to his. "_Peter_?"

He shook his head, clearly unable to speak, and gently pulled her into an embrace. They buried their faces in each other, clinging desperately in their confusion and pain. "I don't understand," she whispered into his chest.

He laughed that empty shadow laugh again. "Join the club. To be honest… I'm not sure I understand anything anymore."

Pulling away but still holding to him tightly, she held his grief-stricken gaze with hers. She understood. None of this made sense. In fact, things hadn't really made sense for longer than she could remember. When she was with Peter before the glimmer, things been simpler, at least. Just him and her, things had been so clear… but with a sinking feeling she wondered if things would ever make sense again.

**********

Peter held onto Olivia and felt solid for the first time since he'd learned the truth an hour ago. After he'd left the lab in a daze, he'd immediately headed for the nearest bar, hoping to drown his shock and anger in the strongest thing he could order. It hadn't worked. He'd downed the first two drinks all right, but after nursing a third drink for over half an hour and entertaining thoughts of the best country to head to, he'd hadn't had the heart to swallow the rest. He couldn't get Olivia's horrified face out of his head. Suddenly, he'd needed to see her, feel her, be with her. Nothing else made sense anymore. His mind continued to hover and revolve around Walter's words, and he shook his head as he drank in her soothing presence.

"Why now?" Peter asked raggedly. "Why is he telling me this now?"

Olivia blanched. "He didn't tell you?"

"No…" Taking in her pale, guilt-stricken face and recalling her strange behavior over the past few days, everything suddenly solidified into two words. He leaned back and let out a breath. "_I_ glimmer." Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded mutely. He felt a lump forming in his own throat. It was all becoming clear. "The night we went out for drinks…?"

"The first time I saw the glimmer," she confirmed, then paused. He saw a tortured ghost flutter behind her eyes, and the chill was back.

He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "There's more."

She nodded again. A tear traced a path down her cheek.

He wasn't sure he could take any more. Not tonight. Not after all he'd already heard. At the same time, however, a part of him was resigned to knowing. And as he took in the agonized expression etched onto Olivia's face, he couldn't imagine asking her to try to keep back another tortured secret from him, even for a night. It was clearly tearing her apart as it was. They'd both had enough of secrets.

"Olivia…" He reached up an unsteady hand to brush away her tear and steeled himself. "It's ok. Just… tell me. I have to know."

But as she explained in a halting, tearful voice how he not only glimmered, but flickered and flared, that he wasn't… stable, a part of him regretted his words. And here he'd been, thinking it couldn't get any worse, he thought numbly. His breath felt frozen in his lungs. He and Olivia absently held onto one another's arms, forehead to forehead, gripping each other more closely to draw comfort as she continued her grim explanation.

At last, she stopped. Looking up at him nervously, her eyes filled with tears, and he distantly noted that her mouth was doing that thing it did when she was upset. Somehow 'upset' didn't really seem to cover this though. Even the floor beneath him felt somehow more distant. Detached.

"Peter, please…" she begged, dragging his stunned mind back to Earth. Her eyes were full of anguish as she watched him. "Say something…"

He gripped the fabric of her sleeve in an attempt to focus himself. God, he was so tired of this mess… He swallowed, voice hoarse. "Can Walter fix it?"

Her ragged breath brushed against his cheek as she hesitated. "He doesn't know."

He didn't _know_? The breath he'd been holding escaped. The buzzing in his ears, was returning, but he tried desperately to focus on Olivia's face where it hovered so close to his. Caressing her cheek in a desperate attempt to ground himself, he looked up into her tear-filled eyes and couldn't find his voice.

She brought her hands up to cradle his face and tried for a feeble smile. "He'll figure it out," she whispered in a wavering voice. "He'll fix it – he'll fix it, he has to. He always does, no matter what…" After a moment, however, her expression crumpled, and he felt his crumple too as she looked into his eyes. "Peter… I can't lose you."

He wanted to promise her that she wouldn't lose him. He wanted to assure her that he'd never leave her, that he was here for good, that he'd never hurt her, but it scared him to know that it quite possibly wasn't in his power to make those sorts of promises. His apparently glimmering skin itched, and felt oddly betrayed by it. He didn't know what would happen – and it terrified him. He half expected to be jerked away at any moment, to dissolve into nothingness…

_No_. No, he wouldn't let that happen. Not after everything they'd been through. He'd always been an active agent in his own fate, for better or worse, and that wasn't about to change now. He focused on the solid warmth of Olivia's touch, the soft feel of her hair. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered roughly. He held her gaze, willing himself to believe it.

A part of him faltered in uncertainty, flooding with what ifs, but he leaned forward and gently caught her lips with his, drawing on her as his anchor. No way was he getting yanked back to wherever he'd come from. _This_ was real, and he intended to keep it that way. The kiss escalated in desperation, and Olivia pressed her body flush against his, setting all his nerves on fire. He deepened the kiss further. As they came up for air, he breathed out words he never thought he'd hear himself say out loud. "I'm not going anywhere." He paused, the lump in his throat returning before he continued softly. "I love you, Olivia Dunham."

A choked sob escaped her lips. Eyes shining with tears, she held him more tightly. "I love you too." She hesitated only a moment before crashing her lips to his again, and Peter allowed himself to get lost in the feel of her as their bodies fervently found one another. If he had to chose his reality, then he chose this, he chose here – he chose her.

*********

Olivia kissed Peter as though their lives depended on it. He was the only thing keeping her sane, his solid presence, and she needed to be closer. Somehow she felt that if she could just get _close_ enough, she couldn't possibly lose him. He couldn't fade away. Threading her hand beneath the fabric of his sweater to touch the warmth of his skin, she pressed herself against him – closer. She wouldn't let him fade.

"'Livia…"

She shook her head, silencing him with another desperate kiss, and she felt his fingers trace a fiery path along the bare skin of her back as he reciprocated. His ministrations matched her own desperation, and she could feel his body trembling with hers as his kisses strayed to her neck, to her shoulder, down her collar line. She gripped him tighter before recapturing his mouth with hers.

She loved him. She wasn't sure when exactly it had happened. Somewhere along this crazy road they were on, he'd become her foundation, and every fiber of her rebelled at the thought of that foundation crumbling. It was a part of her—_he_ was part of her. Their love had come on so slowly, she almost hadn't noticed it, but she'd never felt such certainty, such a strong feeling of something being so absolutely right. To know he felt the same, but she could so easily lose him… The tears fell down her face, and he immediately kissed them away. Her breath hitched with longing. "Peter…"

Staggering back toward her room, he eased her unbuttoned blouse off her shoulders as she pulled his sweater over his head before they resumed their kiss, lost to the world. Somehow, she'd fix this, she'd do anything to. But for now she allowed herself to be vulnerable. She let herself melt into their mutual search for comfort from each other, for each other. For now, the fact that they loved each other was enough.

With a sudden burst of clarity, she smiled up at him softly. He seemed to understand, tenderly returning the smile, and suddenly she knew: somehow this would all be all right. She allowed herself a small tear-filled giggle as they fell back onto her bed, and he grinned in heart-breaking relief as he drew her into another deep kiss. As long as they had each other everything would be ok.

It had to be.

**********

A/N – Thanks for reading! The next update will be on Friday. : )


	8. Chapter 8

It took a lot to make Astrid panic. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of times she had even come close to really panicking. Her mother had always said she was the most even-keeled child she'd ever known, and that was saying something, considering the number of children the woman had encountered in her 40 years of teaching. It was always something she'd prided herself on, being able to take things in stride. It had certainly come in handy in this job.

But not this. As she continued to watch the rapidly declining Walter Bishop through yet another long hour, Astrid had no idea what to do, and she felt the hot sting of helpless panic rising within her. Everything was so messed up. This couldn't be _happening_.

The lab, usually a place she associated with gruesome bodies, but also an odd sort of comfort, seemed cold and unforgiving in the wake of sudden chaos. Olivia had left. Peter had left. She couldn't blame them. Her own shock over the recent turn of events must be nothing compared to theirs, and she was only keeping hers at bay by trying to reach Walter. Nevertheless, she had no idea where the two had gone or if they'd even be coming back. For all she knew, Peter could be on a plane to Hong Kong by now. And even if she did call them, she had no idea if they'd come if she asked. They were furious with Walter… and Walter knew it.

Astrid was alone.

After Peter had left, Walter had dissolved in anguished guilt, insensible to her attempts at comfort. Before she'd been able to stop him, he'd injected himself with a large dose of… _something_ nearly two hours ago. He'd then proceeded to jet around the lab, alternately muttering and shouting. She'd seen him high before, of course—the scientist did like to experiment—but never anything like this.

By now, he had seeped into some sort of catatonic state or something. In truth, Astrid didn't know what to call it. He was just sitting, crying, muttering to himself. His hand kept twitching feebly. Every now and again, he'd get up, trembling, as though trying to avoid someone, and change his seat. But he seemed to have no idea that Astrid was even there. She was going out of her mind as she teetered on the edge of desperation, but she had no choice by to keep trying.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Astrid went and knelt down next to Walter, resting a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Walter? Walter, come on, I know you can hear me…" she said, voice wavering, but the scientist made no acknowledgement of her attempt to reach him. As with her previous attempts, she could have stood in front of him with a marching band and the man wouldn't have noticed. Wherever Walter was, it was clearly in his own world.

He stared at the wall unseeingly. "Peter…" Expression folding in on itself, he cried softly. "_Peter_…"

Astrid felt her own tears fill her eyes and overflow. "He's… he's not here right now, Walter... But if you talk to me, maybe we can do something about that. Maybe we could figure something out. It'll be all right, Walter… but you _have to come back_." Astrid fought back another swell of panic as he continued to ignore her. This was a nightmare. This whole damn situation was a nightmare. "Walter, _please_…"

But he made no response.

**********

Walter stared blankly ahead, absently watching himself—or, really, not himself?—continue to stalk around the lab. The doppelganger appeared at his moments of highest stress, often his moments of most extreme high, and he'd certainly taken enough drugs in his last dose for that to be the case here... He watched it pace. Intermittently, the figure would hold its arms upward in supplication or turn to glare at him accusingly. He wanted to glare back at it in return.

He didn't entirely disagree with it, however.

"You did this, Walter. You'll lose him. You've killed him. He'll die…"

Walter sobbed.

"He'll fade away, or worse, be ripped away from you, painfully, horribly…"

"Stop it," he begged. "Please…"

"You couldn't save him then, and you can't now." The doppelganger shook its head. "You've killed him."

Bowing his head and burying it in his hands, Walter's shoulders shook. No… No, he couldn't have killed Peter. He was his son. He loved him! More than anything in the world, he loved him!

"You've killed him…"

No, he'd never…

"You've killed him, Walter…"

"NO!"

He jumped up from his seat, vision blurred by tears of pain and fury. He'd strangle the doppelganger himself for its words! He would never hurt Peter! He would _never_… but the figure danced out of his reach, and he realized in frustration that he would never be able to catch it. He turned his fury instead onto the somehow wavering lab equipment, shoving it forcefully to the floor as he shouted curses at the fleeing figure.

"Walter!" a voice called out frantically, but in his drug- and stress-induced haze he neither cared to nor could he make it out well enough to understand it. The voice was saying something, sounding desperate. A name hovered on the edge of his consciousness—Astro?—before suddenly the young faces of the boy Peter and little Olive hovered before him. He crumpled to the ground in a heap of agony, hand twitching. "I didn't mean to hurt you!" he cried to the ghostly shapes of the children. "I swear, I didn't mean to…"

Their tiny faces glared at him.

Holding a hand out apologetically, desperate to be absolved, he begged them. "Please, I didn't mean to… I would _never_…"

But the faces morphed into ghostly forms of their adult selves, glares still firmly in place, and he gasped as the music notes from the choir case pounded repeatedly through his aching head. Their glares pierced his soul. "No…" he sobbed at the faces that were more familiar to him than his own by now.

The faces were suddenly young again. Then adult, then young, wavering back and forth faster and faster like a snapped rubber band until the two adult faces themselves were blurring together into one. He reached out, rebelling violently at the thought of losing them. "No, _please_!" he called out frantically. "I'll do anything!"

The faces suddenly stopped their flickering dance. No longer glaring, they were somehow still merged into one… but not one. Fascinated, Walter leaned forward, as if it would help him to better make out the vision that he knew in the back of his mind wasn't really there to begin with. That hardly seemed to matter at the moment, he thought dismissively as he studied the image. The two faces were distinct—clearly Peter, clearly Olivia—but also just as clearly _one_. The music faded.

Suddenly, Walter knew what to do.

"Walter? Walter, please, calm down…" the voice of Astro—no, _Astrid_, he reminded himself—was crying. She hesitated. "I-I'm going to call Peter and Olivia, ok? To try to get them here. Just hang on, ok? It's gonna be ok…"

Walter was mildly unnerved to find that he couldn't respond, that the world was gray around the edges and spinning. However, as it finally faded to black and he felt himself falling backwards, he was so overjoyed by his recent discovery that he didn't even mind. Only one thing mattered: Peter would be all right.

Peter would be all right.

Walter let the darkness take him.

**********

Peter gently kissed Olivia's bare shoulder, holding her tighter to him as they hovered on the edge of sleep in her bed. Sensing his tightened grip, she nestled back into him, and he smiled as he pressed his lips to her hair. The warmth of her body next to his filled him with the kind of love he was sure he'd never felt before, and, as much as he wanted nothing more than to repeat what they'd just finished, for now he was content to just be with her. Her presence was soothing. After all they'd been through recently, he knew they could both use that.

Drifting off, he marveled idly at how their darkest moment had somehow become so intertwined with their happiest. Even though he knew he should still be filled with confusion and anger and a million other emotions, all he could feel was a sort of loving peace. He felt the rise and fall of Olivia's chest in his arms, even and steady as she approached sleep, and knew she felt the same. He'd never felt closer to anyone. Smiling drowsily, he closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to relax.

He had just started to doze off when he heard a loud buzzing from somewhere on the floor. He startled awake, confused. Groaning, Olivia shifted beside him and half sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and holding the sheet up with one hand to cover her body. He smirked at the gesture. The smirk faded, however, as they realized what the noise was. "Is that my phone…?" she asked blearily.

Peter frowned. "No. It's mine." Leaning over the edge of the bed, he grabbed his pants from off the floor and fished out the buzzing phone, glancing at the caller ID. "It's Astrid…" He and Olivia shared a concerned glance before he picked up. "Hello?"

"Peter! Oh, thank God. Peter, you've got to get back here, I don't know what to do! Walter, he must have taken something, I don't know what, but he must have taken too much because he just… I don't know, he just freaked out, and I couldn't wake him!"

"_What_? What do you mean you couldn't wake him?" He sat upright, a glare creasing his forehead as Olivia looked on in alarm.

Astrid's breath hitched on the other end of the line, and he could tell she'd been crying. "He still has a pulse, but it's fast and thready and… Peter, I know you're angry with him, I can't imagine how you wouldn't be, but you need to come back. I called an ambulance and we're on our way to MGH now, but… Peter, he _needs_ you."

"Astrid, calm down." He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the fresh growth of stubble along his chin. "We'll be there as fast as we can."

Hanging up, he turned to meet Olivia's concerned gaze, knowing she'd overheard the whole conversation in the quiet room. "What could have happened?" she wondered, brow furrowed.

"He must have ODed…" He let out a wavering breath as they hurried out of bed and got dressed. Guilt punched a hole in his gut, and his stomach churned. "I shouldn't have left the way I did."

She shook her head, frowning as she rebuttoned her blouse and moved to stand in front of him. "Peter…"

"Olivia, he's the only father I can remember," he whispered. "I'm pissed as hell with him and wicked confused, but…" He swallowed thickly. "I'd never forgive myself if he…"

She held his face in her hands and smiled sadly before placing a reassuring kiss on his lips. "That's not gonna happen. Come on."

Together, they headed hurriedly out the door, and he tried to believe that she was right.

**********

Olivia sat beside Peter in the hospital waiting room, resting her shoulder against his and holding his hand in silent support. He gripped her hand tightly. Staring at the door, he was glaring in that guard dog way of his, the way he did whenever someone he loved was threatened. She'd learned to recognize the look by now. His gaze didn't waver, and she sighed.

Glancing to her left, she noted Astrid looking drawn and anxious in the seat next to her. Her eyes stared blankly at the TV, but the younger agent clearly wasn't really seeing it. From the other side of Astrid, Broyles met her gaze steadily and offered an encouraging, if faint, smile. She returned the smile weakly and averted her eyes, grateful that he hadn't inquired about her sudden closeness to Peter. She'd have to explain their relationship eventually, she supposed, but they both knew now wasn't the time.

At last, they spotted movement from the doorway, and a doctor emerged. Everyone in the waiting room sat up, but the other people slumped back into their seats again when it became clear that the doctor was headed toward the little group in the corner. Olivia felt a wave of hope and anxiety, and the four leapt to their feet as the doctor reached them. "Mr. Bishop?"

"Yeah," Peter confirmed, voice tense. "How is he?"

The doctor smiled, and they all relaxed. "He'll be fine. We were able to counteract the effects of the drugs and bring him down to what we assume is his baseline." The tall woman took on a hesitant expression, but she continued. "We will, however, be needing to know how that amount of drugs got in his system in the first place, and why his tolerance is so high. It says in his medical records—"

"This is an internal matter, doctor," Broyles interrupted in a steely voice that, as usual, brooked no argument. "Dr. Bishop is an FBI employee, and it's a classified situation that only concerns a handful of people." Peter looked over at him gratefully, and the special agent nodded at him. He looked after his own.

"Can we see him?" Peter asked the doctor tightly.

Still looking startled by Broyles's words, the woman nonetheless nodded. "Umm, yes, I don't see why not. He's not conscious yet, but he should be any time now. You're welcome to wait with him. It's room 144. We do have some paperwork for you to fill out though, when you get a chance…?"

"You two go," Broyles insisted, nodding toward the entrance to the ER. "Agent Farnsworth and I will see that things are taken care of here."

Peter didn't wait. As soon as the words were out of Broyles's mouth, he had already headed toward the door, not letting go of her hand, and she followed close behind. After a moment, they arrived at the door to Walter's room and stepped hesitantly inside.

He looked… old. Hooked up to all that machinery and lit by the ghostly glow of the monitors, his face looked somehow more wrinkled, his body smaller. Somehow Walter always seemed larger than life to her, a brilliant if off-kilter maverick who scared and angered her as often as amazed her. She'd certainly been angry enough with him lately. But seeing him lying in the hospital bed, she was suddenly struck by how undeniably human he was. A surge of sympathy for the man filled her despite herself. She glanced up at Peter's troubled face as he stared down at the only man he could remember as a father.

It was going to be a long night.

**********

A/N- Next update maybe Tuesday again? Also, apologies in advance if I end up stepping on anyone's toes plotwise… I've had my story mapped out since I started writing it, but since I'm trying to limit my procrastination (curse you, homework!), I haven't read anyone else's fics. Sorry if there's any overlap! At any rate, thanks for reading! : )


	9. Chapter 9

They waited forty-five minutes before he started to get restless. Stiff in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his hand was beginning to cramp from its unmoved grasp on Olivia's. Her head rested on his shoulder. He wasn't sure if it was because she was tired or if it was to comfort him—he suspected a little bit of both—but he appreciated the contact just the same. Studying the monitors, he noted the perfectly normal vitals and wondered for the hundredth time why Walter hadn't woken yet.

A part of him—a large part—was still furious with Walter, stunned to the core. If he hadn't heard Olivia say it too, he wasn't even convinced he'd believe it. His mind was racing with questions. His mother must have known… Had she agreed to it? What would his life have been like in that other universe? Did his original parents miss him? How could Walter _do_ that? He felt a burst of anger at the thought, but some of it faded as he looked down at the unconscious man in the hospital bed.

Walter wasn't the same man he had been when he'd stolen him. Olivia was right—going crazy _had_ made him a better person, and a better father. And whatever had been in the past, Peter knew his father loved him. As much as he wanted to hate him—and he certainly had in the past—he had to admit that he loved Walter too. Just like going insane had been the best thing for Walter, their bizarre role-reversal of a father-son relationship had been the best thing for them. Even if Walter wasn't his original father.

He wondered briefly what a normal life would have been like.

As angry as he still was, however, and as unhappy as he had been in the past, he couldn't pretend that he was entirely unhappy now. In fact, before this whole thing he'd been pretty damn happy for the most part. He'd had his father back in his life, he hadn't been kicked out of any countries recently, he wasn't on the run from anyone… and he'd had Olivia. He wondered if he still would have met Olivia if he'd lived in the alternate universe. He tried to imagine an alternate Olivia, wondering how she'd be different, but the image felt empty somehow. Whoever she was, she wasn't his Olivia, and he wouldn't trade his Olivia for all the happy childhoods in the world. Letting out an exhausted sigh, he rested his head on hers and closed his eyes. He'd never been one for normal anyway. Why start now?

"Peter…"

Peter's eyes snapped open and he and Olivia immediately straightened at the sound of the raspy voice. "Walter! Walter, hey…" Leaning forward, he grasped Walter's shoulder and let out a breath of relief as his father's eyes opened to blink up at him in confusion. He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit disoriented, I'm afraid," the older man replied, slowly easing himself into a half-upright position. He looked around the room and frowned. "What… Is this a _hospital_ room? What am I doing _here_?"

"I was hoping you could answer that," Peter reprimanded. "What on Earth did you take, Walter?"

"What did I take…?" Puzzled face lighting up in realization, Walter sat the rest of the way up and gripped Peter's free hand. He grinned from him to Olivia and back again. "Peter—I know how to fix it! I _remember_!"

Olivia immediately sat forward, face intense. "How, Walter?" she demanded.

"_Synergy_."

He grinned. Peter frowned. "What?"

"_Synergy_: the shared energy of combined forces coming together cooperatively to create an overall _greater effect_," Walter explained, clearly not understanding why they didn't understand. He tried again, a bit of hair flopping into his face as he gestured emphatically. "Synchronized minds—like the choir!"

"Wait… are you saying that's how Sturgis' army worked? What's that got to do with—Walter, I'm sorry, you're not making sense…" Peter said. Walter shook his head adamantly, and Peter's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I am, son, you're just not _listening_," Walter said, obviously distressed. "The same way that army worked is how we can _fix_ you!"

Peter and Olivia shared a puzzled glance.

Shaking his head, Walter went on. "Sturgis's army worked due to the very nature of a choir. The members of a choir are all focused on the same thing as they work together, in close proximity, and their brain waves become synchronized into a sort of _communal mind_ for the purpose of the music. They're better able to interpret each other's thoughts and feelings and move as _one_. Any change in any one of the voices affects the rest of the group, but what's more, this synergy _linked_ them to one another, _grounded_ them in the reality of their temporarily shared consciousness, and it allowed Sturgis to take advantage of the pre-imprinted programming that Frankfurt had set in their minds in order to give them updates and coordinate them into a mind-controlled army. It's beautiful, really—so simple—yet _ingenious_!"

He paused, looking off into the distance in awe, and Peter frowned. Simple. Right. "Walter, I don't…"

Snapping back to reality, Walter cut him off with a reassuring smile and continued his explanation. "It's all _connected_. When you were a boy, after I brought you back from the other side—" Peter fought back a swell of nausea from the still-strange words "—I _did_ experiment on you to find the electrosensitivity of your brain, you were right about that. Only I couldn't remember exactly _why_! Peter," Walter gripped his shoulder more tightly and beamed, "I was using the same sort of principle as Sturgis's choir—synergy! Using the electrodes, I managed to ground you in this reality by bonding _your_ mind to _mine_!"

Peter stared at his father blankly. What?

"The cylinder," Olivia said suddenly, turning her gaze to Peter with an expression of revelation. "Last year—Peter, that's how you knew where it was even though Walter never told you! And that must be why you can understand him when no one else can."

"Yes, exactly!" Walter nodded enthusiastically. "I never had to tell him because he already _knew_, at least on some level."

Peter looked from one to the other, mind buzzing again. At the moment, he couldn't imagine feeling farther from having some sort of weird connection to Walter's mind—he had no idea what the man was talking about. "What, so we're like… what?" he laughed in disbelief. "Psychically bonded or something?"

"Well, that's a crude way of putting it—certainly not consciously, no. But in a sense, _yes_. It's a large of what's keeping you stably in this universe. A synergetic bond."

Right. There was a "synergetic bond" between his mind and Walter's. Sure, there was. Peter smirked, still not ready to buy into this crazy explanation. "Ok, let's just pretend for a moment that what you're saying makes any kind of sense," he said, willing to play along for now. "If our minds being somehow linked is what's grounding me in the reality, then what went wrong? Because clearly I'm not grounded anymore."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Olivia flinch, and he felt a twinge of guilt for his flippant tone. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she returned the gesture a moment later.

Walter frowned, obviously not amused by his lack of belief. "As I explained to Olivia, the universes coming together and the destabilization of the boundary between the two is obviously disrupting the precautions I took over twenty years ago. As that boundary is crossed—the more it is crossed—I believe it is becoming progressively more _unstable_."

"So… what?" Olivia said. She shook her head, staring at the scientist grimly. "Walter, you said you could fix it…"

He smiled. "So I did, dear. And I believe I _can_. In fact, I believe the process will be relatively simple, due to the fact that the process hasalready_ begun_."

"What process?" Peter asked, once again getting the feeling that he wouldn't like where this was going. He waved a hand between himself and Walter and raised his eyebrows. "You mean re-link our minds?"

"No no no…" Walter shook his head and smiled as though the idea were ridiculous. Of course it was. Peter waited for Walter to continue. "Peter, I'm getting old. I won't be around forever, you know. You'll need to be linked to someone else if you mean to stay bound to this reality after I'm gone."

Wait_, what?_ "Whoa, ok, hold it right there!" He gaped at his father in disbelief. "Walter, what are you saying? That when you die, _I_ die?"

"No! Well, maybe."

"Walter!" Rubbing a hand over his face, he struggled and absolutely failed to erase the aghast expression on his face. This was crazy! He'd spent most of his life alive only because _Walter_ had still been alive? At least Walter wasn't generally prone to risk-taking. There'd been little risk of him dying and inadvertently killing Peter, especially during their estrangement. After all, he'd spent most of that time in St. Clair's.

Then again, Peter had done a good enough job over those years of risking his own life and nearly getting killed… An idea suddenly occurred to him, and he felt a tight knot of horror grow in his stomach as he stared at Walter in the hospital bed. What if Peter _had_ died any of those times? An image of himself getting shot four years ago popped into his head, except this time it was in the heart instead of just the shoulder. He imagined a still-institutionalized Walter collapsing, dead, not knowing that it was because his son had died thousands of miles away. Peter swallowed a swell of nausea. "Walter… does it go the other way too?"

"What… if you die,_ I_ die?" Walter paused, face set in an expression of inappropriately delighted curiosity before he chuckled. "An interesting thought—I have to admit it never occurred to me! I'm not sure. It does seem likely, however. In fact, it would make _sense_. To tell you the truth, this is all uncharted territory—but regardless," he changed his tone to a more optimistic one in an obvious attempt to reassure his son, "even after I die, _you_ could remain grounded in this reality if you were bonded to another individual. As I said, if I'm not very much mistaken, the process may have already begun, which will give us an advantage. It's probably part of the reason you two seem to know each other so well—you've already let each other in on some level a long time ago. Of course, it was likely aided by the fact that Olivia's mind was already open to this sort of thing from the cortexiphan, and Peter had already been bonded to someone before… But it'll _work_. I think it'll work—better than before, even."

Walter turned his triumphant gaze to Olivia with a smile. She returned the smile with a look of grim determination, and he knew she'd already accepted… But Peter had finally had enough. Suddenly, instead of Walter collapsing after Peter was shot in the image in his mind, it was Olivia. Olivia lying in a hospital bed. Olivia, still and lifeless… His stomach roiled in guilty revolt, and he choked down bile as he shook his head and leaned away from Walter in disgust. Glaring at the man, he felt a sharp flare of fury. "No way—absolutely not! You want to bond _Olivia_ to me? Are you _actually_ insane? Just two seconds ago, you were saying that the bond could go both ways, that if I were to die whoever was bonded to me could die too—"

"Peter…" his father tried to interrupt, but Peter cut him off with a sharp motion.

"Damn it, Walter, I'm not killing Olivia!" he growled. "You might not have a problem with it, but I do!" Avoiding her eyes, he stood abruptly and stalked out of the room. Walter really was insane. But that didn't mean he would stand for it. Not anymore.

*********

"Peter!" Olivia jogged after him in the deserted hallway of the late-night hospital. She caught up to him a second later and gently took hold of his arm, stopping him and turning him around to face her. His face was drawn, creased into that same, stubborn guard dog glare, and she sighed. "Peter…"

"There has _got_ to be another way, Olivia," he said, voice gruff. "I'm not about to let—that man—" he jabbed a finger toward Walter's room "—do _anything_ to you."

Her brow furrowed as she struggled to understand his reaction. "Peter, it might not even _go_ both ways, and besides, you're not dying any time soon anyway, so what does it matter?"

Crossing his arms, he shifted backward. "There's no guarantee this'll even work. And if it does and Walter's right and the barrier between the universes is destabilizing or whatever…" He shook his head unyieldingly, mouth set. "I'm not willing to risk it."

She gripped his hand, trying to get his furious gaze to meet hers. "Well I _am_. I'll do it. No reservations."

"_Olivia_…" His jaw clenched and his face softened in a surprisingly vulnerable expression as he brushed his hand against her cheek. The unspoken implication hung in the air between them: _I don't want you to do this. I can't be responsible for hurting you. Please_. She could read his guilt and fear so strongly that she had to admit that maybe there was something to Walter's suggestion that they were already partially bonded after all. He shook his head again, still furious. "This is a bad idea. I can't believe Walter is even suggesting it—I can't believe you're _considering_ it!"

Olivia hesitated, looking up into his pale face. "What choice do we have?" she asked softly. This was the only way out she could see, and she'd do anything to take it.

"Damn it, I knew you were gonna say that," he sighed, moving closer to her and gently brushing her hair back. "Olivia… that's not how I want things to be with us. You should always have a choice. I don't want you to get stuck with this."

_This_. There were so many meanings packed into the tiny word the way he said it: _doing this, this situation, the consequences, the risks, something you'll regret…me_. She let out a wavering breath. As touched as she was by his pigheaded attempt to protect her, they didn't have time for it, and she didn't need it. She knew what she was doing. She struggled to find a way to reassure him, desperation forming a cold knot in her stomach. "Peter, this _is_ my choice. I don't take it lightly and I certainly don't see it as getting _stuck_ with anything. But it's your choice too. I can't make you do something you don't want to do." As much as she needed him to accept, she didn't want him to get stuck with this either. She worriedly watched for his reaction to her words.

Looking away, he glared into the distance. She could see how frustrated he was in the tight lines of his face, how trapped he felt. Her stomach tightened in anxiety. Peter didn't do well in situations where he felt trapped, and that was certainly the case here. For all her talk about choices, it was really no choice at all—it was either do this, or lose Peter. The latter wasn't even an option. Not for her at least. She saw the option cross his mind as he studied her, and it chilled her to know he would even consider it. She gripped his arms tighter.

His mouth turned downward, his eyes searching her. "You know it's gonna be dangerous. Since Walter and brains are involved, we know that much, at least. It'll be _dangerous_. Olivia…"

She smiled sadly at him and ran a hand down his arm. "I know. But it'll be fine." When he continued to look uncertain, she leaned in closer to him, needing for him to accept. The source of his worry over hurting her was vague and improbable, but the reason for her concern over losing him was written in every glimmering part of his body. This threat was real. She couldn't have him discounting their only option out of misguided concern for her. The stakes were too high. She needed for him to _accept_.

Desperately, she dropped her voice. "Peter, please… _Trust_ me."

But looking up into the tortured uncertainty on his face, she was suddenly terrified that he would refuse.

*********

This was wrong. On so many levels, this was wrong. Peter wanted to rage, he wanted to fight, he just wanted something to _hit_, dammit. But there was no outlet for his frustration. After all, where did you put the blame when what you were really raging against was just the age old fact that life wasn't fair?

He could blame Walter. He wanted to. The man was an easy target for his fury, somehow the instigator of this whole damn situation, even if Peter didn't entirely understand all the details of how yet. He was certainly anything but innocent. That much he understood. But a part of him knew that this was truly the only option Walter saw as viable, and for some reason his gut was telling him to believe him. This was how he'd done it before. This was the only option.

They were trapped.

But it couldn't be, he thought with another surge of anger, pushing back at the idea of being cornered into this. There was always another way out. Walter just didn't care enough to find it. He didn't care what happened to Olivia—he'd never cared. He'd always been willing to sacrifice her for the sake of some vague "greater good," to use her for his own purposes, even when she was a defenseless _child_. Peter clenched his jaw. Well, he wasn't.

He just had this horrible feeling that Walter would complete the process of "bonding" him and Olivia or whatever, and it wouldn't be enough. Newton wasn't going to stop pushing the boundary between the universes. They knew that. What if he destabilized it to the point where the bond wasn't enough and Peter dragged Olivia down with him in the wake of it all? He knew she'd try to tell him that the risk was small, that this was her choice, but every part of him rebelled violently at the idea of her putting herself at risk for him. He wanted her protected. Safe. He sighed.

He'd never met anyone who needed less protecting than Olivia Dunham. She was quite possibly the most capable person he knew. But at the same time, he'd never met anyone who needed it more. She never thought of herself. It was part of what he loved about her, her selfless bravery, but it also infuriated him to no end. Time and time again he'd watched her throw herself in harm's way, and he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it except trust she could take care of herself, respect her decision, and back her up when she needed it. It was frustrating enough when her selflessness was aimed at someone else, but when it was for his sake… He wouldn't be her next John Scott. He couldn't see her go through that again.

Helplessness filled him as he looked into Olivia's imploring face. Feeling her hands' tight grasp on his arms, he could feel her unwavering love and resolve. He knew she would do anything for him, and it scared him. Even though he felt the same for her, it scared him. Studying the anxious lines of her face, he felt a wave of guilty longing. He wanted to stay. But how selfish would he have to be to accept so easily, knowing what it could cost in the end?

Peter swallowed firmly. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd spent most of his life being selfish. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of in the pursuit of his own survival, things he hoped Olivia would never find out about. But over the last couple of years something had shifted in him. Just looking out for himself wasn't the only thing that mattered anymore. Being around Olivia, seeing her loyalty and devotion, something about her inspired him from the beginning. He wanted nothing more than to stay in this universe with her—but not at this price. He loved her too much. There _had_ to be another way. They just had to find it.

She was frowning at him. Lips turned downward in that way of hers, brow furrowed to match, somehow she knew what he was thinking, and she didn't understand. Neither did he. But she never thought of herself… so maybe someone else had to for once. Maybe that someone was him.

"We wait," he heard himself say.

"Peter—"

"Just for a week," he went on, knowing she'd never agree otherwise. He rested a hand on her hip, feeling suddenly calm. This was the right thing to do. "Please, Olivia, just a week. There has to be another way out of this, and if there is Walter can find it by then."

Her mouth quirked to one side in disapproval, brow still furrowed, and he could feel the frustration radiating off her. "Peter, if you're doing this because of me…"

Smiling, he let out a small laugh. She never gave up. He pulled her closer to him and rested her forehead against hers, his smiling eyes meeting her tense ones. "Come on, it's just a week. I seriously doubt anything mind-shatteringly catastrophic is gonna happen between now and then."

Almost against her will, a small smile curved her lips, and his smile widened in response. "One week," she reluctantly agreed before pressing her lips against his. "But then we have to do _something_, and the sooner the better. This isn't going to go away… and we're running out of time." She paused, studying him, and as her smile faded he knew she was looking at the glimmer that supposedly surrounded him. He kept his own smile firmly in place, trying to cheer her.

"Don't worry," he whispered confidently, face an inch from hers. Drawing her into another kiss, he felt her relax in his arms, and the knot in his stomach loosened a little more. This was the right thing to do. After all, what could happen in a week?

******************

A/N – No updates for a week probably… This chapter was a bit longer than usual to make up for it though. And enjoy the new episode on thursday!! Sooooo pumped. : )


	10. Chapter 10

A/N - Sorry for the delay! I've been crazy, crazy busy, so I'm sorry if it seems a bit rushed… Anyway, here's the new chapter. Enjoy! : )

**********

Chapter 10

Philip Broyles watched the two kiss in what they no doubt still thought was a deserted hallway and let out a sigh. Complications. Always complications. Why couldn't anything about this job be simple?

He couldn't pretend he hadn't seen this coming. Although odd at first glance, the pairing had a certain air of inevitability to it. He'd thought the attraction had just been one-sided at first. Peter Bishop had certainly made efforts to hide the feelings he'd obviously fought—given his history, falling for an FBI agent must have gone against Bishop's every instinct—but that didn't mean Broyles hadn't noticed. Over the past year and a half, however, he'd watched the two grow closer, and he'd known that Olivia had begun to feel the same for Peter even before she did. You didn't become a special agent heading up your own division in Homeland Security without being able to read your people. Yes, he'd seen this coming.

But he also couldn't pretend to be completely easy about the relationship. Intra-work relationships were always tricky, and intra-team relationships were an out-and-out nightmare… not least of all for the supervisor. He'd have to hide this from _his_ supervisors, to be sure. As if he didn't have enough tap-dancing to do to handle the bigwigs in Washington already. Nevertheless… he'd seen the way they looked at one another. He wouldn't be the one to end what they were beginning. He shook his head.

Complications.

Deciding he'd let his presence go unnoticed long enough, Broyles took a step forward and cleared his throat, mildly amused by the couple's guilty expressions as they sprang apart.

"Sir!" Dunham tugged at the hem of her jacket to straighten it and ran an anxious hand through her hair. She put one hand on her hip and waved the other through the air as she obviously searched for some sort of coherent response for such a moment. He didn't tell her that there really wasn't one. At last, she settled on, "I didn't, umm, I didn't see you… there."

Broyles smothered a smirk, but evenly met her gaze, trying to look stern. "Yes, I gathered that." He turned his gaze to Bishop, who was avoiding his eyes, looking every bit the stubborn but uncomfortable teen who had just been caught by his girlfriend's father. An interesting reaction, he thought. And not totally incorrect. Broyles wouldn't deny that he felt an almost paternal protectiveness for Dunham.

But there was more going on here, he thought as he studied them. He sensed a weight of desperation in the encounter. Sighing, he softened his expression to put the two a little more at ease. As much as he suspected there was more to this whole incident than met the eye, this wasn't an interrogation—yet. "How's your father?"

Peter's eyes darted up to his, clearly surprised to be let off the hook so easily. Within a few seconds, he'd wrapped his usual gruff exterior around himself again, all traces of the uncomfortable teen gone. "I think he'll be all right. You know Walter—he must've just taken a bit too much of his 'medication.' "

"I see." Broyles looked from one to the other. "Anyone care to explain why that might be?"

The two exchanged an uncomfortable look, and Dunham flinched. "Well, we don't know all the details yet, and it's kind of a long story, sir…"

Broyles raised his eyebrows. "I think I can make time for it."

"Right." Dunham paused, weaving her fingers together in front of her before dropping her hands to her sides. "I… that is…"

Clearly floundering with how to begin, she exchanged a helpless look with Bishop, who turned to him abruptly and cut right to the chase, hands in his pockets as he shrugged. "Apparently, I'm from an alternate universe."

Broyles stared. Well, he hadn't seen that coming. He shook his head, waiting for an explanation.

Complications indeed.

**********

Bringing her hand up tentatively, Astrid knocked on the door to Walter's hospital room. A nurse taking Walter's blood pressure looked up and beckoned her inside, looking relieved. Astrid understood why a moment later when she caught sight of Walter's anxious face peeking out at from behind the nurse's shoulder.

"Oh, Astrid!" he said, waving his free arm for her to come over to him. His eyes were wide and worried. "Have you seen Peter?" He glanced behind her as though he expected his son to suddenly appear.

She unconsciously looked where he was looking before turning back to him, mouth curved downward. "Peter? I think I just saw him and Olivia talking with Agent Broyles. Why?"

"I need him to come _back_ here!" he replied, hitting the blanket with a flat palm. "I need to finish explaining! He keeps running off before I can…" Trailing off, he shot a glare at the nurse as she unvelcroed the blood pressure cuff. "I don't need to be here, you know."

The nurse looked startled to be suddenly addressed and glanced at Astrid before frowning at her patient. "Dr. Bishop…?"

"I tried to tell that to that quack doctor who was in here a moment ago," he continued. He made a scoffing noise, brow creased in irritation. " 'Keep me overnight for observation'—I am perfectly capable of observing myself! I've been doing it since before that _pup_ was born, and I'm certainly familiar enough with the physiological effects of the compounds I injected to—"

Astrid coughed, then laughed uncomfortably as she patted his shoulder. "Walter, I think that's enough…" She looked at the nurse and forced a broad smile. "He's such a… kidder."

Removing the cuff, the nurse smiled back awkwardly before leaving the room in obvious confusion. Astrid let out a breath and turned to Walter. "You know, you could be a bit more discreet," she scolded gently. "Agent Broyles and I just spent an hour trying to cover this whole thing up."

Walter shook his head, clearly unrepentant. "You don't understand—I don't want to be here," he pleaded, looking small as he leaned in toward her. "I need to speak with _Peter_…"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," a voice said behind her. She whipped around to see Broyles standing in the doorway. The special agent frowned as he stepped inside. "I'm sorry, Dr. Bishop, I just sent him and Agent Dunham home to get some rest."

"Rest?" Walter repeated. He stared at Broyles, aghast, and didn't seem to notice the nurse come into the room again and walk over to his IV with a syringe. Astrid wondered what was in the syringe as Walter went on. "Agent Broyles, you should know better than that. I doubt very much that those two will be resting! This is _important_!"

Broyles' eyes flickered over to the nurse as she injected the syringe into the IV, but his eyes quickly returned to rest steadily on Walter. He raised his hands in a placating motion. "Dr. Bishop. I'm sure whatever it is can wait until morning—"

"No, it _can't_—" Walter began, raising a hand to gesture forcefully. His eyelids suddenly drooped and his head nodded, but he startled awake again almost immediately. His eyes met the nurse's as he finally caught sight of her. "You! What did you give me?"

She smiled apologetically. "Get some rest, Dr. Bishop."

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead sunk back onto the bed with a bemused frown as she scooted out of the room. Almost as soon as the nurse walked out the door, Walter's eyelids were drifting closed against his will.

Astrid was impressed. Whatever they'd given him, it was strong—either a large dose or something his body wasn't used to. Or both, she supposed. Regardless, within a minute the scientist was unconscious, and she patted his shoulder again more gently. She hated to see him knocked out, but it was probably for the best. He did need to rest. She was just relieved he was all right.

Feeling Broyles' gaze, she looked up to see his troubled expression. "You should get some rest too," he said, but she shook her head with a weary smile.

"I feel like someone should stay with him," she replied, offering a way of explanation. She laughed. "He does have a tendency to wander off and get in trouble. Besides, I'm not tired yet. I'll get some sleep when I am—I promise."

He continued to study her for a moment before nodding. "All right. But I'll hold you to that."

"Yes, sir." She smiled. "You should get some rest too."

Giving her an almost amused look, he shook his head. "Good night, Agent Farnsworth."

"Good night."

She watched him leave, standing alone for a moment in the quiet room. Gazing out the hospital room window, she thought she caught a hint of gray on the dark horizon—the first signs of the sun. Dawn was still hours away, she knew, but she settled into one of the vacated chairs by Walter's bed to wait.

**********

Olivia shut the apartment door behind her and Peter and locked it wearily. Her eyelids were practically closing on their own as she dropped the keys in the dish by the door. So were Peter's, she noted as he draped his coat over a chair and clumsily wedged off his shoes. But then, that was part of the reason they'd both come back to her apartment instead of dropping Peter off at his place.

That, and neither of them had wanted to be alone tonight. A blanket of insecurity seemed to have settled over them, and having each other close was the only reassurance that seemed to make the unspoken fears of impermanence fade.

They'd barely said a word to each other on the car ride over, and they were silent now as she changed into her pajamas and Peter stripped down to his boxers. What little brain power they did have left was devoted to running over the events of the day, she suspected as she sighed. They climbed into bed, nestling into one another as though they'd done it every night for years, and she marveled at the comfortable silence in her normally empty room. She felt Peter's arm pull her into him, his hand resting on hers, and she was only a little surprised by how much his touch relaxed her.

But at her back, she could feel Peter's mind turning over restlessly despite his weariness. She couldn't blame him. It was a lot to take in, and, as they'd told Broyles, they still didn't even know the half of it. She thought back to Peter's face as Walter had explained how he'd grounded him in this reality, and what they needed to do to finish the process. He'd been so… angry. Hurt. She wasn't sure he'd forgive Walter. She'd been afraid of this. It was part of the reason she hadn't wanted to tell him initially.

Olivia sighed. "You know he loves you."

There was a pause, and she thought for a second he was going to pretend to be asleep, but his voice was quiet as he answered a moment later. "I know." He absently moved his thumb along the back of her hand where he held it. "It's just…"

He trailed off, and Olivia frowned sleepily. Rolling over to lay next to him face to face, she met his eyes. "What?"

Hesitating, his gaze held hers steadily. "It's just…" He gave an uncomfortable, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't even know how to start. I mean, how do you deal with finding out everything you've known is a lie?"

Still fighting sleep, her mind wandered back to her feelings of betrayal after John's death, and she smiled bittersweetly. "In my experience? You find out that it wasn't as much of a lie as you thought. And you learn to live with it."

He looked away as he clearly took in her words. His expression was so pensive that it broke her heart, and she leaned forward to kiss him, to comfort him, wishing she could offer more. He returned the kiss, and she felt him relax with a smile. Pulling away, her mouth curved upward as he brushed his thumb against her lips. "Sleep," she whispered, touching his cheek. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

His smile widened and his eyes softened as he looked at her. "I know."

She let out a breath of relief that his mood bad broken and relaxed into him again, completely comfortable in his arms. Next to her, she felt Peter do the same as they both focused on the warm solidity of the here and now. Resting her head on his shoulder, she felt him drift off to sleep just before her.

**********

Four hours later, however, Peter couldn't sleep. He didn't want to admit it. He wanted to just deny it and go back to sleeping peacefully like he had been up until a half hour ago. Under Olivia's covers, so close to her, it was warm, and he was comfortable—why shouldn't he be able to sleep? But the glaring fact that he was laying there, still staring at the ceiling, wide awake as her words tumbled through his head, made it hard to deny. His eyes roved the weakening shadows of the room as it lightened with dawn. Nope. He definitely couldn't sleep. He sighed.

Turning his head to the left, he studied Olivia's peaceful face. For once, the creases of her brow were smoothed, lines of worry fading with sleep. He was actually a little surprised she wasn't awake too, but he was grateful. He knew she didn't get as much rest as she should and usually had trouble getting to sleep in the first place. He smirked. He'd like to think that the fact that she was so relaxed had something to do with him, but he knew it was more likely that they were both just exhausted.

As much as he wanted to let her sleep though, a part of him wanted to wake her up. What had she meant, it might be less of a lie than he thought? He wanted to see her green eyes shining steadily back at him. He wanted to talk with her.

He wanted answers.

Unfortunately, the answers he wanted were ones she couldn't give. He knew that. Which left him with only one option. Begrudgingly reaching a decision, he moved the covers aside and sat up, careful not to disturb Olivia as he stood to get ready to leave.

After he finished dressing, he called a cab and then wrote her a note telling her where he was going. He walked over her bedside table and placed the note there, taking care to be quiet, but despite his efforts she shifted and squinted up at him groggily. "Peter?"

He smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll be back. Go back to sleep…"

She continued looking at him for a moment through barely open eyes before they drifted closed again. Her lips curved upward contentedly, and she relaxed back onto her pillow. Looking down at her, he smiled softly before quietly padding out of the room and out the door.

His taxi was waiting outside by the time he got downstairs, and he quickly arrived at his destination. The hospital's gray exterior seemed a little more welcoming in the early morning light—or as welcoming as a hospital could be, he supposed. After explaining himself to a night nurse, he was finally allowed to head to Walter's room.

The first thing he saw as he walked into the room was Astrid asleep in the chair by Walter's bed. Wondering in alarm if she'd been there since he and Olivia had left, he quickly took the few steps over to her to gently shake her shoulder. "Astrid," he prodded in a whisper. "Hey, Astrid, wake up…"

She groaned in the seat, but after a second her eyes flew open and her head shot up. "Peter!" She rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand and blinked at her watch. "Is it really 6:30 already?"

His mouth quirked up on one side in semi-amusement, but his brow creased in concern even as he let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, it is. Why don't you go home and get some real sleep? I'll take over from here."

Smiling, she nodded wearily. She collected her coat from the chair beside hers and stood. As she headed for the door, Peter thought of her sitting alone, nodding off in the uncomfortable hospital chair as she stood guard by a man she wasn't even related to. He thought of the crazy days in the lab, the random hours, the disgusting assignments… He reached for her arm as she passed him. "Hey, Astrid… Thanks. For everything. I mean, what you do for Walter…" He paused. "It means a lot."

Her expression softened and he knew she understood. "Don't mention it." They exchanged tired smiles as she made her way out the door.

Taking her seat as she left, Peter studied Walter. He absently brushed a curl out of the older man's face, noting that it was no longer the rich chestnut color he remembered from his childhood. The brown had been replaced by gray, streaked with bits of white. The youthful intensity that normally animated his face was dormant in sleep, and the face he remembered was now creased with the various dips and curves of the wrinkles that came with time. So much had changed since before. Walter certainly had. Letting out a sigh, Peter leaned back into the chair and retracted his hand. He stared it for a moment, moving the fingers that were now longer and much better for playing piano than his stubby boy hands had been. He sighed.

They'd both changed.

He didn't want to fight anymore. He was tired of being angry with Walter, with all the questions and doubts and intrinsic distrust. They'd been healing. He wanted that back. But most of all, he wanted answers. With the answers would come the healing. He knew it. Somehow, it had to.

So he waited.

**********

Walter woke in stages of increasing consciousness that progressed at a far slower rate than his impatience could tolerate. From the angle of the sun on his eyelids he deducted that it was early morning, but he wasn't sure when exactly. At first he couldn't remember where he was, but the hum of the hospital machinery and the foreign feel of the IV in his hand quickly reminded him. Then he couldn't remember why he was asleep, but an image of that dratted nurse surfaced in his mind, filling him with outrage and a burst of righteous indignation. How _dare_ she…

He didn't realize that he wasn't alone until he heard someone shift by his bedside. Peter! But no, he berated himself immediately. It couldn't be Peter. Walter had seen the condemnation in his son's eyes as he'd left. Walter swallowed tears at the memory. Peter wouldn't come.

When he opened his eyes, however, he saw to his surprise that his initial instinct had been correct. His son sat in a chair to his right, fiddling with something that Walter couldn't see… until Peter shifted again and Walter saw a glint of silver as it danced across Peter's hand. He choked down a wave of agony at the memories the sight triggered, but something in his gut hardened with certainty. This was a sign.

The time had come.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up in the bed and Peter immediately glanced up from his hand. The coin stilled as the two met each other's eyes. Walter swallowed, not knowing how to fill the void that stretched between them. "Peter."

"Walter," the younger man greeted in reply. His face was fixed into the same expression of clenched-jaw stoicism that had been on his face when they'd first seen each other in St. Clair's, and Walter felt a flare of panic. They couldn't slip back to _that_! They'd come so far since then! If Peter hadn't left by now, now when he no doubt suspected the very worst of him, Walter suspected he wasn't going to. Surely once he explained, once Peter understood, they could go back to the comfortable rhythm of their new relationship, the way things had been a week ago? But looking into the face of the son who was not his son, Walter knew in his heart that things would never be quite the same. Still, he hoped with every ounce of his being that someday they could be just as good. He couldn't lose Peter. Not again… not again. No matter how much he wanted to, he resisted the urge to take his son's hand in his, knowing that it was too soon. Swallowing, he gathered what bravery he had and forced his voice not to waver. He would do this right. "Peter… it's time you knew the truth."

A flicker of anxious curiosity peeked through a crack in Peter's stoic mask. Walter began his tale, sending up a silent prayer that he be allowed this one thing, even after all he'd done: _Please let me keep my son_. _Please_.

**********

A/N – In terms of the story Walter gives him, I'm just going with the explanation we got in "Peter." I tried to leave it vague enough in earlier chapters so I could use whatever the show came up with, since I want this to be as canon as possible even though it's obviously getting more AU as the show goes on. Next week: of Peter's reaction… and blood pressure.

Anyway… thanks for reading, and reviews are always welcome and super appreciated! : )


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – Rushed chapter again! Sorry… At least it's up though, right? Anyway, enjoy! : )

***********

Chapter 11

Peter was in a daze for an hour.

"Peter?" Walter had prompted hesitantly after finishing his story, and Peter had stared at him, not knowing where to begin. Then instinct had kicked in. He'd given an absent smile, said something inane but reassuring—he couldn't remember what—and gone to speak with the doctor about getting his father released. The doctor had agreed and begun making the appropriate preparations. She'd seemed glad to be rid of them. He supposed he couldn't blame her.

Still in a daze, he'd signed the forms and gotten a taxi to bring them home. As he'd opened the door to their apartment and stepped inside, he'd fought the feeling of surrealism that swirled in his gut, up through his chest, to his head. Foggy, he'd thought. That was the feeling. Maybe. Must be the lack of sleep. Walter kept sending him furtive glances of concern, but Peter kept pretending he didn't notice.

"Peter?" Walter had prompted again after changing into his pajamas, and Peter had encouraged the man to get some rest. He'd smiled, not sure where the peaceful expression came from. It was certainly far from how he felt. Walter had appeared confused by his serenity as well. He'd seemed anxious about letting Peter out of his sight though, so Peter had waited with Walter until the older man had fallen asleep. Even afterwards, Peter continued to sit there, just watching. The brightening house around him was still and silent in the morning light—other than Walter's light snores.

As the sun strengthened, however, it was as though his brain switched back on, whirring slowly to a start again as it rebooted, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He stared at Walter, and the weight of it all hit him. He didn't know how he felt. He didn't know how _to_ feel. Getting up with shaking hands, he walked into the kitchen in the hopes that there was still a beer left in the fridge as he tried to sort through the emotional muck.

So he was dead? He wondered distractedly what Olivia would think of that, how much she already suspected, and wished she were here. But, of course, _he_ wasn't dead; it was the other… _He_ was alive. Obviously. But he should be dead. He should have died. But he hadn't.

Realizing he'd been staring into the fridge for several minutes without really seeing the contents, he shut the door. He doubted the beer would help anyway. It'd probably just make it worse. His confusion was pervasive enough as it was. But there was something beneath the confusion, some underpinning emotion that he couldn't quite pin down. Peter glanced over his shoulder as Walter let out a loud snuffle. He smothered a smirk, watching in amusement as Walter's nose twitched, and suddenly he realized what the feeling was.

Relief.

It wasn't an emotion he would have expected to feel after hearing the man he knew as his father finally tell him the details of how he'd come to be here from an alternate universe. He should be shocked, he thought. He'd just found out that some version of him was dead, decaying in the ground somewhere in Boston. He should be creeped out beyond belief. He'd just found out that Walter had inadvertently caused the pattern, the grisly cases, the horrific deaths and unanswered questions—because of _him_, because he'd been sick and Walter had loved him. He should have felt guilty or infuriated or, more likely still, a very solid mixture of both. And he did. The confused swirl fogging his mind was all of those emotions, as well as several others he didn't dare give names to just yet.

But Olivia had been right: it wasn't as much of a lie as he'd thought. Walter hadn't stolen him. Not really. Or at least, not intentionally. Not like Peter had thought anyway, and because of it he didn't have to be angry anymore. He didn't have the heart to squash that rising feeling of relief, and the feeling mixed with a strange gratitude as it rose. He was alive today because, seeing his son in need, Walter hadn't been able to let even a version of Peter that wasn't technically _his_ die. Walter had been saving him… He and Peter's mother just hadn't been able to let go afterward. But then, on some cosmic, karmic level, maybe Walter had been somewhat justified in keeping the boy from the alternate universe that he'd rescued, given that he'd been the one to save him…

Man, that was twisted. He shook his head and leaned heavily on the kitchen counter. No. Maybe not. Surely his original family was owed an explanation at the very least…

But regardless, the feeling of relief was an exhalation after the tension of all the worst-case scenarios he'd imagined—of an unfeeling bandit Walter, conducting a dastardly kidnapping in the dead of night. It didn't erase the fact that there were consequences for what Walter had done—already horrific, although mostly still unknown at this point. But it had been a crime of grief, not malice. And because of it, Peter was alive.

For better or worse, what was done was done.

He ran a hand over his head and let out a ragged sigh. Moving to stand beside Walter's bed again, he crossed his arms. He could forgive Walter for what he'd done. Walter was human, and Peter suspected he'd done what any distraught parent would have—if those parents were also scientific geniuses. But he knew that they hadn't seen the end of this, and that knowledge was the weight that finally deflated his balloon of relief. His head pounded, vision blurring slightly, and he rubbed his temple absently as he fought to swallow the uneasy stone in his throat. A collision of worlds.

Walter could very well have doomed them all.

"You shouldn't have done it, Walter," he whispered, voice unsteady.

He didn't expect a response, but the sleeping scientist seemed to hear him from his dreams. He turned over and smacked his lips for a moment, brow creased in sorrow, before muttering a muffled, "I know."

***********

Olivia woke and instantly knew she was alone. It was how she usually woke—how she normally preferred to wake—and she tried to ignore the fact that it no longer felt like enough. The empty half of the bed behind her felt cold, ached like something was missing, but she stubbornly sat up and rubbed a hand against her eyes. Catching sight of a piece of paper on her bedside table, she reached over and picked it up with a frown.

_Hey, Olivia,_

_I'm going to head back over to the hospital. I need to talk to Walter. I think you know why, and I hope you understand. I'll be back, but I just can't let this go right now. I'm sorry._

_Love,_

_Peter_

She stared at the note, her attention momentarily focusing on one word. _Love_. Seeing the word written out somehow sent that old chill of fear through her, that old distrust of getting too close, but she felt her mouth curve up in a smile. She couldn't mess this up. She _wouldn't_, not for all the emotional baggage in the world. A vague memory of Peter leaning down to kiss her forehead as she slept stirred in her mind, and the memory gently washed away most of the fear. She loved him.

And she trusted him. If he said he'd be back, he'd be back. She pictured him waiting alone in Walter's hospital room for the answers he craved, however, and frowned. A part of her wished he'd woken her up, let her come with him, so at least he didn't have to face this alone, but she knew this was the way it had to be for now. Peter and Walter needed to work this out on their own first. The rest would come later.

Sighing, Olivia got out of bed and prepared to get ready for the day, whatever it might hold.

After showering, getting dressed, and eating breakfast, however, Olivia was beginning to worry. Peter had left hours ago. Was he all right? What had Walter told him? But no sooner had she talked herself out of calling him—maybe he just needed space to take it all in—than her phone rang. She hastily finished shoving her cereal bowl into the dishwasher with a clatter as she looked at the caller ID on her cell phone. Peter.

She grabbed the cell phone off the counter and picked up. "Hello?"

"Olivia."

His voice was tired, heavy, but something seemed to lift off it relief as he heard her voice. Her worry immediately shot up a notch. "Peter. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her. "I got Walter released from the hospital, but I had to bring him home. Astrid was staying with him, but I sent her home to get some rest. She'd been there all night."

She immediately understood what he left unsaid. He couldn't leave Walter alone, not now, and he couldn't ask Astrid to take over. He was stuck there. "I'll be over in ten minutes," she said, wishing she could see his face to read it. She didn't like what little she could read in his voice. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I will be. Olivia… thanks. See you soon."

"See you soon," she echoed, then hung up. She immediately slipped the phone into her pocket, grabbed her coat and keys, and headed out the door. Peter needed her.

When she arrived ten minutes later, she knocked on the door and waited, foot tapping idly. After a moment, Peter opened the door. His mouth gently curved up in a relieved smile as his eyes met hers. He leaned in and drew her into a gentle kiss, hand resting on her shoulder, before letting out a long breath. "Hey…"

"I came as fast as I could," she said, stepping inside. As he closed the door behind her, she studied his face, looking for the cracks she had heard in his voice on the phone.

Sure enough, there they were. Beneath that tired smile, she could see veins of uneasiness—a weight lifted, a weight added. His eyes followed hers, and she could see he knew what she was thinking. Clearly sensing her concern, his wan smile widened slightly and he traced a hand down her arm. He shook his head in a reassuring gesture and pulled her into an embrace. "I'm all right," he promised into her hair. She held him tightly, noting that she could still smell the antiseptic scent of hospital on his shirt. They stayed like that for a moment until, pulling back, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked up at him tentatively. "Was it bad?"

He let out a melancholy laugh. "Well, that depends. As you know, nothing with Walter is ever straightforward. So which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?"

"Both."

One side of his mouth quirked up in a sad smile, and she knew he knew what she meant. She wanted the whole story, the way he'd heard it. He nodded. Then, taking her arm, he led her to the living room and sat her down on the brown leather couch next to him. She waited anxiously until he began a moment later, voice soft.

When he finished speaking, Olivia was still. Staring toward the room down the hall where she knew Walter was sleeping, she swallowed, bowed her head, looked back up at Peter. His eyes met hers. He looked exhausted, and the full range of his emotions played out transparently on his lined face. There was no need to speak. He brushed his fingers along her cheek, and she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder as they settled back onto the couch. Both resting in gratitude for the other's presence and unspoken uncertainty, they relaxed drowsily into one another. They would get through this. Walter would find a way.

She hoped.

With that final thought, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, Peter's arm around her.

***********

"Peter! Peter, wake _up_!"

Peter woke with a start, inadvertently dislodging the sleeping Olivia in the process and waking her as well. The two blinked at each other in confusion before looking up to see Walter standing over them anxiously. "Are you awake?" Walter wondered worriedly, shifting from one foot to the other.

Peter's mouth turned downward. "I'd have to go with a yes." He and Olivia sat up, and Peter rubbed one eye, the other never leaving his father. His head pounded. What time was it?

Olivia was quicker to wake fully. Sitting up straighter, she met Walter's anxious expression with a matching one of her own. "Is something wrong?"

The scientist hesitated. "Not immediately wrong, no," he replied, but his harried expression didn't fade. He shifted feet again. "We need to go to the lab right away."

Peter's brow creased in confusion. Something was definitely wrong, "immediately" or not. "Why? Walter, what's going on?"

"You still want to stay, yes?" the older man asked, face full of painful hope and hesitance. "You still want to stay in this universe?"

Expression softening, Peter nodded. He could feel Olivia's warmth from where their bodies met, and he felt his shoulders relax. "Yeah. I do."

Walter looked immediately relieved. "Good, good…" he said with a small smile. "But, if that's true, we need to get to work."

Get to work? At first he didn't realize what Walter was talking about, but as he followed his father's gaze to where it rested on Olivia, he stiffened. "No. Walter, we talked about this. Not that way."

"But…" Walter's eyebrows knit together and he wrung his hands. "But… Peter, I can't think of any other way to—"

"Hey, it's ok," Peter said, reaching up to place a reassuring hand on his father's arm. "Walter, you'll figure something else out. I know you will. You've got a whole week."

Eyes widening, his eyebrows shot up in alarm. "A week? What happens in a week?"

"After that, he's agreed to do it the first way," Olivia explained. "He promised." Her eyes turned to Peter's, and he could see that there was no way she was going to let him back out of their deal.

His throat constricted, but he smiled weakly. That wasn't gonna happen. "Walter will find something before then. Won't you, Walter?"

Walter's hesitant expression wasn't reassuring. "I-I'll try… But… it took me over a year to come up the concept for the synergetic bond in the first place. Peter, I don't know if—Peter, what if I can't—"

"Hey, hey, it'll be _fine_," Peter said quickly in reassurance. Hoping to calm the man, he stood, but to his surprise the world immediately seemed to tilt. When he righted himself, he found that Olivia had jumped to her feet beside him, gripping his arm in support with a concerned expression on her face. He frowned. What had happened?

"Are you all right?" she wondered, eyes roving his face.

Was he? He thought so. The brief bout of dizziness seemed to have faded, and he could have easily convinced himself that it hadn't happened to begin with were it not for the look on her face. He laughed softly, hoping to dispel her worry. "Yeah, I'm fine. Must have just gotten up too fast."

She looked doubtful for a moment before averting her eyes downward, and Peter turned his gaze to Walter. Walter was studying him, brow creased into that pensive expression he adopted whenever he was trying to remember something. Clearly, he was unsuccessful, as he frowned a moment later. "We should get to work," his father said at last, eyes not leaving Peter. "There is much to be done…"

Olivia nodded and reluctantly released Peter's arm. "We can take my car." She glanced back at him briefly before leading the way out to her car. By the time they arrived at the lab, Peter had already put the incident out of his mind. He just hoped Walter could find another solution… Sitting down next to Olivia, he tenderly kissed the top of her head and let her presence soothe him as they watched Walter work in tense silence.

***********

A/N – No updates for another week at least. (booooo end of the semester crunch…) I've got it planned out though, and next week's update will get into some good stuff, I think… You'll just have to wait and see. : )

Thanks for reading, and I love reviews, so feel free! And thanks to all those who've reviewed already; it really makes my day. : )

In response to the recent comment on Chapter 3 by "random reader": I hadn't really planned on explaining about Usamah Webb, since it didn't really seem to move the main plot forward—but I can. The way I always figured his character was that his mom was Middle Eastern, but his dad was American. His parents wanted to keep both aspects of his background in his upbringing, so they named him Usamah Webb (Usamah being Middle Eastern and Webb being more American). He was interested in his different backgrounds too, so he became a history major. He also just liked music, so that's why he was a music minor. But again, it didn't seem important to the Fringe storyline, so I didn't explain it—sorry! I hope that satisfies your curiosity though! : )


	12. Chapter 12

Five days later, Olivia walked into the lab. It was early—too early—and the newly risen sun filtered feebly through the upper windows of the lab. Even Gene was still asleep, big head drooping with her eyes closed. Her spotted body shuddered slightly at the sound of the door closing and her ear twitched, but her sleep continued despite the disturbance. For a moment, Olivia was jealous of her ability to sleep so deeply. Then, disturbed by the realization that she was feeling jealous of a cow, she shook her head.

Peter was right. She did need to get more sleep.

Unfortunately, his attempt to get her to get some "real sleep in her own bed" yesterday had turned out to be unsuccessful. She puttered around her house for a while, done her best to act normal when her sister called, and tried to convince herself to turn off her worried brain and just rest. But it was no use. After dozing in and out of sleep, tossing and turning for hours, she'd finally given up, figuring she might as well return to the lab. Everyone else was there anyway.

To her surprise, Walter was already—or still—up when she arrived. He was leaning over a counter, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper while a mouse scurried around the cage at his right ear. He hesitated, pen hovering waveringly over the paper. Suddenly, his face contorted into an expression of frustration and he tossed the pen at the the cage. The pen ricocheted off the glass with a loud _ping_, startling the mouse inside and causing it to squeak loudly in protest. "Is that really necessary?" he snapped at the animal.

Olivia took another hesitant step into the lab, pulling her gray scarf off her neck. "Walter?"

Walter's head whipped around and his anxious eyes met hers. "Oh, Olivia! When did you get home?"

"Just now..." She glanced around the lab, noting the crumpled pieces of paper strewn here and there, littering the counters and spilling out of the garbage. They all contained scribbles of formulae and words that she couldn't quite make out—but they were all crumpled. She fixed an uneasy smile on her face. "Any luck here?"

Walter's face crumpled like the papers on the counters and his shoulders slumped. "I'm afraid not. And I'm rapidly coming to the realization that I'm unable to even recollect all the things that I need forthe synergetic solution either. There's something—_several_ somethings—that I'm forgetting, I know it! Something _important_! But the more I try to think of what I'm forgetting, the more it slips away! And these dratted mice... _Won't_. _Be_. _Quiet_," he growled, glaring at the creature as he flicked its cage. The mouse continued to squeak loudly and run in a circle, exciting several of its neighbors into similar hysteria.

Olivia frowned at the mice before turning her gaze back to the scientist. "You'll figure it out, Walter. Maybe you're just trying too hard," she tried to reassure him, but he continued to look despondent and she frowned. She scrunched her scarf in her hands, shifting her feet as she tried to think of something else to say. How could she comfort him? The last thing they needed was for Walter to break down again. "There's still time," she finally said.

"Perhaps," he said with a lackluster shrug.

He glanced over his shoulder, and she felt her throat tighten as she tried to follow his gaze. "What?"

Reluctantly, he turned back to her, features heavy. "I'm not so sure we do have time."

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion even as she smiled reassuringly. "Of course we do… We still have two days for you to find another solution, and even if you don't, Peter said—"

"Yes, I know what Peter _said_," Walter interrupted. He glanced over his shoulder again before turning to her anxiously and dropping his voice to a whisper. "But, Olivia… he's having second thoughts about staying."

Olivia felt as though the air had been knocked out of her. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, of course not. But he doesn't have to. I _know_ it."

She met his tortured gaze unwaveringly, seeing the truth in his eyes, but she shook her head and forced herself to smile. He had to be wrong. "Walter... you're tired. You're under a lot of stress. Isn't it possible you're just imagining it, because that's what you're afraid he's thinking?"

He continued to look at her for a moment before turning his gaze down to the piece of paper on the counter. "Yes… yes, I'm sure you're right." But he didn't look convinced, and as Olivia swallowed she felt the seed of doubt plant itself in her own stomach as well. Peter had been quieter than usual, she'd admit, but she'd thought they were out of danger in terms of him leaving. He couldn't possibly blame Walter now, after finding out the truth. Could he? Maybe _before_ he'd found out the whole story… Even she'd blamed Walter then. With a twinge of guilt, she studied the scientist as he crumpled the piece of paper and got a fresh one, staring at it blankly.

"Walter… I'm sorry," she said after a moment.

His eyes widened in surprise as he turned back to her. "For what?"

"Before Peter told me the whole story, I just assumed that you had…" She hesitated, shrugging uncomfortably. "You know…"

Expression turning grave, he looked at her steadily. "You thought that I had built the portal, with the intention of taking him for myself from the start. You thought I had stolen him from his family on purpose." He studied her bleakly. "Didn't you?"

She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. The scarf dangled, one end dragging on the floor. "Yeah. I did," she admitted. "And I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to…"

But he shook his head and waved a hand to stop her. "It's quite all right," he said with a sorrowful smile. "After discovering what I had done to you as a child during the Cortexiphan trials, I imagine you must have thought me capable of anything. And I think I might have been, from what I remember—capable of anything, I mean. Some of the things I've done, Olivia…" He shook his head, eyes filling with tears as he hesitated. "Do you believe in redemption?"

Olivia wavered. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she did. Some things were just too horrible to make up for, and the only 'redemption' to be found was in bringing the perpetrators to justice. Her step-father could certainly never redeem himself in her eyes. She doubted Hitler could ever make up for what he'd done. But as she looked into Walter's tearful eyes, she found she couldn't voice her doubts. A reassuring smile formed on her face from sorrow more than anything else. "Sure," she finally said.

He immediately relaxed and gave a nod. "I-I'd like to as well. You see, the cases that we work on—the reason I get so _involved_ in them… They haven't been merely cases to me for some time now. If I can help _fix_ my past mistakes, prevent others from making the same mistakes… If I can keep more people from getting hurt… perhaps I can redeem myself. I-In some small way." He smiled at her hopefully. "Thanks to you, I have the opportunity to _try_, at least."

Olivia returned his smile, touched by his gratitude. She wasn't sure she deserved it, but she was touched just the same. With a twinge of regret, she thought back to her anger at Walter's excitement over the Usamah Webb case. She'd known Walter was in a constant struggle to redeem himself… but with his seemingly misplaced enthusiasm, sometimes it was easy to forget.

After a moment, however, his expression fell again and he absently wrung the pen in his hands. "Olivia… I don't know what I'll do if Peter leaves…"

She rested a hand on his shoulder sympathetically, but didn't know what to say. How could she promise what she wasn't sure of herself? Her reticence didn't seem to matter though, and he offered her a watery smile in thanks. Nodding after a moment, he turned back to the blank piece of paper and gripped the pen.

Suddenly, Astrid's voice echoed through the lab. Olivia dropped her hand back at her side and looked toward the sound. "Walter, I don't think I can find _either_ of those albums!" the younger agent called. She emerged a moment later carrying a faded record in her hand that she immediately handed to him. "Is this the one you meant?"

Walter took the album, frowned at it, then up at Astrid. "Yes?"

"Wait…" Astrid began, looking at him warily. "Are you saying that 'yes, this is the one you wanted' or are you just reading the band name off the cover and wondering if you asked me to get this one?"

Walter's mouth turned downward in a perplexed pout, but he shrugged a moment later with an apologetic smile. "To be honest, I have no idea… but Yes seems as good a band to start with as any, I'd say. Let's go put it on, Astro!"

Olivia raised her eyebrows at Astrid, who shrugged. "We're trying to jog his memory by finding the music he might have been listening to when he figured all this out the first time."

"Ah." Olivia had seen how helpful music had been to Walter in the past. At this point, it was probably their best shot. She gave Walter another reassuring smile and went to go find Peter while Walter and Astrid went to put on the record. Seeing Peter again, she'd be able to put her doubts to rest. She hoped.

************

_The little boy heard the door creak and opened his eyes. A man walked in—a shadow of a man—but he couldn't make out who it was. He squinted at the figure in the dark. It was only when the man sat down on the corner of the boy's bed that he thought he recognized the vague outline, and he frowned groggily. "Dad…?"_

_The man looked at him, and the boy instantly knew something was wrong. He gasped."Wait—no!"_

Peter woke with a start. Sitting bolt upright, he blinked around the room, orienting himself. He instantly recognized one of the back rooms of the lab and relaxed, letting his face fall into his hands as he sighed. Not again. That was the third time this week. He was rapidly beginning to miss the days when he couldn't remember the details of that particular nightmare at all, he grumbled to himself as he kicked his blanket aside. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned forward onto his knees and groaned.

He heard some sort of 60s music suddenly echo through the lab. The voices of Walter and Astrid murmured through the walls from the next room over, and he smiled. Even thought he couldn't make out the words, the rhythm of their conversation was familiar. Comforting. But it wasn't enough to wash away the uneasiness from his dream.

He hadn't told Walter that he remembered what the dream was about now. He hadn't told him that every time he looked into Walter's face he would inevitably wonder about the man Walter had dubbed "Walternate." He hadn't told him that, as much as he loved Walter and appreciated what he had done to some extent, the part of him he tried to ignore still felt confused and guilty, betrayed by the secret. Raw. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to tell himself to snap out of it. He'd made the decision to stay. He'd promised Olivia... What good would it do to torture himself with what ifs? He'd made his decision. Hadn't he? But the doubts still haunted him.

Soft footsteps came to a stop in front of him, and he looked up to see Olivia standing in the doorway. She looked less rested than he'd hoped for, he thought, a little disappointed that his plan hadn't worked. The shadows under her eyes broke his heart, but the lack of sleep didn't seem to bother her. To be honest, he probably looked worse.

"There you are," she greeted with a warm smile, taking a step into the room.

He met her gaze, but couldn't find a returning smile of his own. Questions still whirled through his groggy mind, and he tried desperately to shove them away. But the process of repressing his doubts took him a second too long, and he saw Olivia's smile falter as she noticed the lag. At last he managed to curve his mouth upward, and she returned the gesture, if a bit uneasily. "What?" she wondered, wary.

He shook his head. "Nothing." As they continued to look at each other, however, her smile faded again and he felt a twinge of remorse for the lie. She knew something was up. There was no use in hiding it at this point. He studied her for a moment, reluctant, weighing how much to say. "It's just…" He didn't know how to begin. So much had been building over the past few days, so much he'd tried to deny and hide.

At last, he sighed. "Olivia… how am I supposed to fight in a war where I don't even know what side I'm supposed to be on? Do we even know why there's a war in the first place?" Her eyes widened in something like horror, but he kept going, speaking more quickly as he silently begged her to hear him out. He knew how this sounded. "No, think about it: I mean, we've seen the soldiers from the other side, but we don't know what they're after. And at this point it seems pretty likely that a lot of the cases we've seen are… _someone_… trying to make soldiers on this side—that Jones guy, for example, when he tried to 'recruit' you—but we don't know who they are or what they're after either. It's just these two essentially faceless sides—and all these unanswered questions. There's just so much we don't know, and we're just…" He hesitated, waving his hands in the air as he tried to find the right words. "It's like we're the ones caught in between, just… trying to keep people from getting hurt by either side. But, Olivia—how are we supposed to _do_ that when we don't know the whole story?"

Olivia's mouth curved up defensively. "It's not like we haven't been trying to figure that out. You know that."

Taking in the hurt look in her eyes, he felt his stomach sink. This wasn't going at all right. "I know that. I do. I'm just…" He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple to ward off his growing headache. "I'm just confused."

"Are you all right?" she asked, pitch low and worried.

"I'm fine," he said dismissively, not opening his eyes until he felt the cot shift on his left and he knew she was seated next to him. He was suddenly, unnervingly, reminded of his dream, of the shadowy figure at the corner of his bed, all the questions and guilt…

As he opened his eyes and took in her concerned face, however, the feeling immediately faded. The sympathy on her face told him that she understood more than he let on. As usual. He felt his tension fade despite himself.

He saw her hesitate for a moment, but her voice was soft and soothing when she spoke. "Peter… It's not your fault, you know."

Easy for her to say, he thought as he met her eyes. She wasn't the one who had to deal with the fact that Walter had upset the balance of the universes and might have accidentally started this whole war—all to save him. The guilt had already torn his mother apart. Not only that, but for all he knew, his original father could be the one who was the mastermind behind the shape-shifting soldiers, maybe in some sort of crazy attempt at retribution for the loss of his son. If Walternate was anything like the Walter on this side had been back then, it didn't seem all that unlikely. He shuddered at the thought. Two Walters, locked in a battle of wits across universes.

He wasn't sure he could think of anything more horrifying.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a quiet voice, abruptly changing the subject. If he was baring his soul here, he might as well do a thorough job of it. "You knew that I was from the other side. You knew for days, and you just let it tear you up inside." He paused, taking in her suddenly guilty expression. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Peter…" She swallowed visibly, and a slightly panicked look crossed her face. Her eyes met his pleadingly, but she straightened, clearly willing to face up to her actions even as she was terrified of what his response would be. "A part of me wanted to tell you. But… I thought…" She paused, and her voice dropped slightly. "We thought you'd leave."

He felt the small feeling of betrayal he'd been carrying fade as he studied her. Her eyes burned into his, worrying, wondering, wanting him to stay. She hadn't meant to hurt him—he knew that. In a strange way, she'd been trying to protect him. A part of him wished she'd succeeded. He'd certainly been happier not knowing. But he knew that, at least in this particular case, ignorance was definitely not bliss. It would have blown up in their faces eventually, and probably worse if he'd found out later rather than sooner.

"I thought about leaving," he admitted after a moment. Her fears hadn't been completely unfounded. He almost _had_ left, he remembered, thinking back to that night at the bar. He'd been planning an escape route, so close to just taking off, leaving all this behind—for all the good it would have done him. Still, something had stopped him from going through with it. His eyes met hers and softened.

"But you didn't," she pointed out, almost as though trying to remind him of that fact. Her eyes searched his fearfully, and he could hear her unasked question.

Smiling, he shook his head. "No, I didn't." He tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Pulling back, he held her gaze reassuringly. "I'm not gonna leave you, Olivia. Don't worry."

As soon as he said it, something in her shoulders immediately relaxed, and she let him pull her into a kiss. His stomach tightened as she deepened the kiss and leaned into him. As he gently caressed her cheek, he wondered with a twinge of regret if she'd be so relaxed if she could hear what he wasn't saying:

He'd never leave _her_… but that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't leave.

************

"Ah, yes… I remember this song! _Delightful_ bass line!" Walter exclaimed, wagging his finger in rhythm as he sang along with the bass in a booming voice. "_Bum bum bum babababum! Bum bum bum badadadum_!" He began to tap his foot as well, fully approving of their new music selection. Much better.

Having rejected the Yes album after only one song—it didn't make him recall anything except a strange craving for orange sherbet—they'd moved on to another record. Whichever this one was. He couldn't recall. But oh, yes, _this_ one brought back _memories_! Nothing relevant, of course, unfortunately. Something about a car, he thought, and something else… He wasn't sure. But memories nonetheless.

Astrid laughed. Grinning incredulously, she held up the record cover. "'Under Pressure?' Really?"

"Yes! That's it!" He pointed at her enthusiastically as she said the song title. "That's what it's called: 'Under Pressure.' You know, I couldn't remember!" he chuckled. The man on the record began to sing, and Walter sang along theatrically, pleased to discover that he knew the words. "_Pressure! Pushing down on me, pressing down on you—no man ask for. Under pressure! That burns a building down, splits a family in two_…" An image flashed in his mind, and his singing faltered. What was that? But it faded after a moment and he shrugged the lapse off as an effect of his drugs. He picked up singing again. "_It's the terror of knowing what this world is about_…"

The image flashed again, but this time he could make out something… Peter was there, younger, there was something…

"Walter?" he heard Astrid ask. Her pitch indicated concern, he noted, but he focused on the image.

"_Your pupils are good—they're good!"_

It came in a rush, but this time he seemed to absorb it instead of it just flashing by, and at the end he suddenly recalled a conversation with Peter shortly after he was released from St. Claire's.

"_I'd like to check your blood pressure."_

"_Why don't you check you own blood pressure. Mine's fine, thanks."_

"_Your skin tone suggests you might be suffering from arterial hypertension."_

"_Don't tell me what I'm suffering from. And there are no signs of arterial hypertension…"_

"Peter!" he cried, back in the present moment. He gripped the confused Astrid's shoulders. "Where's Peter?"

"He's… he's in the other room," she replied, eyes wide. "Walter, what's wrong?"

He shook his head. Releasing her shoulders, he turned and rushed into the next room. Peter and Agent Dunham were kissing. There wasn't time for that! "Peter!" he called, shaking his son's arm.

Peter pulled away from Olivia and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in irritation. "_Yes_, Walter?" As he took in Walter's agitated expression, however, his irritation faded to worry. "What?"

"I need to check your vitals right away," Walter said in a tense voice.

"My…" Peter's brow creased in suspicion. "Walter, why do you need my vitals?"

"_Because_, son… I think you might be dying."

************

A/N – Thanks for reading! Next update will hopefully be up quicker this time… Sorry about the delay! I hope you enjoyed it though! : )


	13. Chapter 13

A/N - New chapter! Sorry for the delay… Enjoy! : )

Chapter 13

"_Dying_?" Peter laughed after a moment and leaned back. "Come on, Walter, that's ridiculous. I feel fine," he said reassuringly.

Olivia swallowed, eyes wide as she studied Walter. Everything she knew about the scientist screamed that he was telling the truth. His face was drawn, motions jerky and agitated. She felt her breath quicken in dread as she turned her eyes to Peter's face. He was a little pale, sure… but dying? "Peter…"

"I'm _fine_," he assured her, eyes meeting hers firmly before he turned back to Walter with an expression that was clearly reprimanding him for worrying her. "I feel fine!"

But Walter's grave expression didn't waver. "Peter… I don't think you are, son. Correct me if I'm wrong: You've been having headaches lately. Your body aches and you don't know why. The other day you almost passed out when you—"

"So I've been a little stressed lately. _None_ of us have really been taking care of ourselves," Peter interrupted crossly. "You of all people should know that. I'm probably just getting sick or something. But that hardly justifies jumping to the conclusion that I'm _dying_. Now knock it off."

A tense silence fell between the two as they tried to stare each other down. Suddenly, Walter's eyes began to tear, and he shook his head as he reached hesitantly for his son's face. "Peter… " His hand fell and he lowered his eyes, obviously heartbroken and fighting panic. Olivia and Astrid shared a horrified glance.

After a moment, Peter dropped his head into one hand, rubbing absently at his temple as he sighed. He straightened and motioned with the hand, glaring. "Right. Walter, don't you have any _good_ news for me this week?"

"Well, yes," Walter said in surprise, "and… and no."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"I believe that the synergetic bond between us would _not_ kill me as well, were you to die."

"Well, that's great," Peter said drily, letting out another sigh. "But?"

"But… the bond also isn't strong enough to save you."

"Save me from _what_ exactly? Didn't you already tell me this? What's going on?"

Walter opened his mouth, shut it, tried again. "When… when I brought you back from the other side, after I administered the cure to you, I studied you to be sure that you were healing from the disease that had so very nearly killed you. At first, I thought you were recovering—and you _were_—but after a while… from the tests, it-it seemed that you were relapsing. Your mother was beside herself. She… she blamed me… and so did I. I had been so certain of the cure, and to see you sick again…" Walter sniffled and shook his head. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. "I thought it was my fault. In a way it was, but not for the reason we had initially thought."

He returned his gaze to Peter and continued. "I began to realize that what you were experiencing were the physiological effects of living in a universe not your own—p-prolonged exposure, as it were. Memory loss was one effect… But because you were a child, I believe the other effects took longer to manifest in you, and they were slightly less insidious than I believe they would be in an unprepared adult. Children are more adaptable, you see… but apparently not immune. I-in most cases." Walter glanced at Olivia, eyes full of guilt, before looking back at Peter. Olivia fought a shudder at the brief reminder of the Cortexiphan that still coursed through her body as Walter went on.

"I-I was frantic. Belly and I had experimented with the other side for years, of course, but we'd never crossed over before, and we'd never met anyone else who had. I had no idea what to do. It's why you were sick so often when you were younger, son, why I would sometimes experiment on you as I tried to find something that would work to reverse the effects. It took me some time, but I finally stumbled on the solution and executed it successfully—or so I thought. By grounding you in this universe, bonding you to me, I managed to both _keep_ you here and to keep you _healthy_ here. The bond took years to solidify properly, however, and you didn't fully acclimate until the year before high school. By then, I-I believe I was already rather insane…" He offered a faint, self-deprecating smile.

Peter was staring at Walter, jaw clenched, clearly not trusting his voice. Olivia noticed the crease of hurt anger in his brow, but he swallowed and remained silent. She could practically feel the question he wasn't asking: _If I was sick because I was here, why didn't you just send me back_? But they all knew the answer. Walter hadn't been able to bear the thought of losing him again. She sat next to Peter on the cot, so close to him, and she longed to comfort him. But she was afraid to touch him in his pain for fear of pushing him over the edge. He looked so fragile. Hurt. Instead, she fought to control her breathing and turned to Walter, voice hoarse. "What kind of physiological effects, Walter?"

For a moment, the scientist didn't speak either. He just studied Peter, clearly taking in his son's angered confusion as guilt grew on his wrinkled face. Eventually, he met Olivia's eyes, but his voice was soft as he spoke. "Multiple organ failure—kidneys, lungs, heart, brain… everything. Systemic atrophy. And… and eventually death."

"But how can you know that?" she countered, trying to keep the desperation out of her tone. No matter how much she wanted to, panicking wouldn't help. "You said you'd never come across anyone else who'd crossed over. Maybe… maybe you're wrong about what would happen."

Walter shook his head. "No. It's true, I had never encountered anyone else. But given the rate of decay when Peter was a boy and the effects that Belly and I had already posited theoretically, were someone to actually cross over and stay… I fear there's little uncertainty as to the ultimate effects of prolonged exposure for most people. As the stability of the barrier between the universes continues to degrade, along with the weakening of the bond between Peter and myself, the physiological effects on Peter's body will become progressively more pronounced." He turned back to Peter, hesitant. "Unless… unless something is done."

Peter returned his gaze, his brow knit together in a glower. Still he said nothing.

"Peter, I… I-I'm so sorry," Walter whispered, begging. "I should never have—I know I—" But his throat seemed to close up, and he shook his head. "I know that nothing can make up for what I have done. But I… I'd like to try—now, with this." He straightened slightly. "I _can_ fix this. The bond should have worked last time… but I didn't take into account one thing."

At last, Peter took a deep breath, still glaring, voice tight. "What's that?"

"Compatibility," Walter replied with an unexpectedly soft smile. "I posited years ago that the mind is like any other part of the body—you can't put it into someone else's and expect it to work without complications unless it is _compatible_. It's like a bone marrow transplant: certain markers need to match between the donor and the recipient, and a family member may not necessarily be the best match. In the case of the mind, I believe that a certain level of compatibility is required for people to get along in general. Proximity leads to an interaction of minds, of brain waves—of whatever you wish to call it—and it is a certain level of a synchronization of sorts that leads to the formation of harmonious relationships. It's possible they're quite _literally_ harmonious—frequencies of brain waves that interact in a way perceived as pleasing to those involved, like chords of music. Soulmates are perhaps the most extreme example of this—two individuals whose minds fit together so well that they are perceived as two parts of a whole. Such minds would, I believe, form bonds spontaneously."

His eyes darted from Peter to Olivia, smiling, and Olivia felt a rush of heat rise to her face. Walter had said that she and Peter had formed a bond… Did that mean that that was what they were? She had to admit she'd stopped believing in the idea of "soulmates" years ago. But as Peter shifted his eyes to hers cautiously, she felt something tighten in her stomach—and she knew. She could tell he did too, in the way his eyes softened and a hint of a smile touched the edges of his mouth.

But the expression faded a moment later to one of concern and he returned his gaze to Walter grimly. "Look, I know what you're suggesting," he began, gesturing with one hand before letting it drop onto his leg with a sigh. "Walter… I still think there has to be another way."

"If there is, I have been unable to discover it," Walter replied regretfully. "At least… nothing permanent. I can think of several ways that would _mask_ the effects, in a manner of speaking, but the ultimate damage would still occur over time, and it would only be temporary relief that would need to be readministered at intervals. This is the best way. Regrounding you in this universe by bonding you to Olivia would resolve both the risk of you being ripped back to the other side, as we've already discussed, _and_ the physiological effects of staying. And I believe that your concerns about Olivia being endangered by the bond may be unfounded."

Peter hesitated, and Olivia gathered the courage to brush her hand against his. The light contact made him raise his eyes to hers and she smiled in tense reassurance as she begged him to understand. _I'll do it, I'll do anything, I just can't lose you… Stay with me. Please._ She struggled to swallow her fear and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Peter…"

She saw the instant where his resolve wavered. His glare softened almost imperceptibly into uncertainty, and his eyes filled with doubt as they roved her face. They didn't leave her even as he spoke to Walter. "Are you just saying that so I'll go through with it, or do you actually believe that?"

Walter paused, watching their interaction. "Well, I can't guarantee anything—as I said, this is all uncharted territory—but… I-I _believe_ so."

"Okay," Peter said at last in an uncertain whisper. He gripped her hand tighter, and she knew he was terrified. So was she. But she couldn't help the grin of relief that blossomed on her face as soon as the word left his mouth. Peter would be okay.

Walter clapped his hands together with a grin of his own. "Excellent!" Standing, he glanced toward the lab and his grin faltered slightly. "Now I just have to think of a way to improve the procedure… There's one compound I can't recall completely… But don't worry, son, we'll have that solved in no time!" He flashed a smile at Peter before rushing out of the room, calling out instructions to Astrid. The younger agent offered a reassuring smile of her own before hurrying out after him, leaving the two alone in the room.

"Are you sure about this?"

Olivia looked back at Peter, who was staring at the doorway. "You're not?"

Sighing, Peter's shoulders slumped slightly as his eyes met hers. "You know I'm not. And you know why."

"But Walter said…" She trailed off, frowning.

"Yeah. Walter said." He paused for a beat, then worked at a feeble smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine." As he continued to look at her, however, the smile became more genuine, and he tenderly brushed his hand again her cheek. "I love you. You know, you don't have to do this…"

She felt the tension in her shoulders fade and she returned the gentle smile. "I know. I love you too." He pulled her into an embrace and she buried her face in his shoulder, gripping him tightly as he placed a kiss on the place where her shoulder met her neck. "And this will be all right. You'll see," she whispered. It had to be.

He nodded, still hugging her, and they relaxed into each other. They couldn't ignore how big a commitment this was going to be. She suspected this was uncharted territory for both of them, in more ways than the scientific. But Olivia knew with absolute certainty that being bonded to Peter felt right, and she knew he felt the same. His doubts weren't about that. The doubts he did have, on the other hand, hadn't quite faded, and she knew it. She just hoped he wouldn't let them get in the way.

A/N - Next chapter: Walter tries to remember the final components of the solution, and he and Peter bond at an unlikely place. It should be up by early next week. After that, the P/O bonding process begins (finally)! Thanks for reading! : )


	14. Chapter 14

A/N – I lied! I switched some stuff around in the story to bring you, this very chapter: bonding! Or at least the beginnings of it… Enjoy! : )

"Any minute now," Walter had assured them. He would have the solution completely figured out, with the procedure made as safe as possible, "any minute now." So he had told them an hour ago. And the hour before that. And the hour before that… The hours had stretched on, stretching Peter with them, and he felt drawn and thin and anxious from all the waiting.

"Any minute now" was clearly a minute too long. After five hours, Peter and Olivia had decided they'd had enough of waiting.

"Come on, Walter, what's going on?" Peter asked as they entered the main part of the lab. "You've been at it for hours."

"Ah, Peter!" Walter greeted, waving him over enthusiastically to where he stood watching a solution that he'd put on ice. "I've remembered the final component that we need for the process to be successful!" He paused for dramatic effect, smirking smugly and wiggling his eyebrows. "_Duck_!"

Peter raised his eyebrows and stared at Walter's grinning face, trying—and hoping—to read in it some indication that the scientist was messing with them. "Duck. Really." When the older man's expression didn't falter, however, Peter exchanged a puzzled look with Olivia. "Okay… Walter, why do we need a duck to bond Olivia and my minds?"

"Not _a_ duck," Walter corrected defensively. He motioned toward the solution crystallizing in the beaker. "_Duck_. That's its _name_. I wrote you a song about it when you were a boy, don't you remember? It was to the tune of that—come now, you know the song—it goes…" He paused, as though searching the air for the tune and then began humming, wagging a scalpel emphatically to the jerking beat and causing Astrid beside him to back away nervously. "… _a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free, doodoo doo doo doo doo doodoodoodooo dooooooooo_…" With an air of great accomplishment, he grinned. "Don't you remember?"

"Sure, I remember. You used to sing it to me as a kid… _I'm a duck, I'm a duck, I'm a quacky quacky duck, and I quack, quack, quack in the pondy pondy muck_…" Peter sang absently to the same tune, waving a hand as though to hurry himself along. "You mean that one?" Walter nodded enthusiastically, and Peter frowned at him. "But what's that got to do with…"

Suddenly, Peter caught sight of Olivia, who was looking at him with smiling eyes and a barely suppressed grin. "Just like that, huh?" she teased.

Smiling sheepishly, he shrugged. "What? I was, what, nine at the time?" he countered, but her grin only increased. He laughed. "Hey, Walter's the one who wrote it, not me."

"Yes, I did," Walter affirmed emphatically. Olivia raised her eyebrows and gave an amused nod. Peter couldn't entirely understand why he'd want to take credit for the song either, but he waited for an explanation nonetheless. "It was supposed to help calm you while I determined the best method and ultimately performed the procedure to bond our minds—"

"Well, I guess that's another song I can put on the 'ruined for life' list—"

"—and it served the dual purpose of reminding me of the main components of the compound necessary to do so." Walter continued, shooting Peter a perturbed and slightly hurt glare. "Four amino acids: D, U, C, and _K_."

Olivia, whose smile had faded uncomfortably, looked at Peter in confusion, and he sighed. "Each amino acid is abbreviated with a letter, so the four he's talking about in this case are aspartic acid, selenocysteine, cysteine, and lysine. Normally amino acids are building blocks for proteins, but knowing Walter, who knows?"

She nodded, eyes turning to Walter warily. "So what does it do, Walter—the compound?"

"Ah!" He raised a finger didactically. "It was designed as a neural enhancer of sorts, to inhibit the brain's natural mechanism to protect itself from intrusions and other outside interference—like what you will be attempting on Peter. It's relatively harmless, I assure you. I tested it extensively on rats—and even myself—before ever giving it to you, Peter. It's… quite a trip, as I recall."

Peter's mouth turned down uneasily at the thought of Walter testing self-designed drugs on himself—likely without much, if any, assistance from anyone except perhaps his lab assistant. He must have been really desperate, he thought with a twinge of pity. Only the fact that the ultimate test subject had been Peter himself kept the emotion from developing into full-blown sympathy. That hurt was still too raw.

"So we'll both be getting it then, this… Duck?" Olivia asked dubiously, dragging Peter's mind back to the present. She crossed her arms, brow furrowed.

Walter shook his head. "No. To you I'll be administering Cortexiphan, along with the usual cocktail for the tank—you'll both be getting that before you go in."

"Hey—whoa!" Peter interrupted, shaking his head at Walter and raising his hands. "Do you really think that's a good idea, mixing those? You have no idea what kind of drug interaction there could be! And the tank? I thought this was an electrodes deal."

"Don't _worry_, Peter!" Walter scolded with a gentle smile, gripping his shoulders reassuringly. Peter was less than reassured. He studied Walter plaintively as the scientist went on. "I have thought this through _extensively_—the drug interactions, the methodology… Every nuance and contingency has been carefully considered to make this work the best it can, as safely as possible—which, a-admittedly, isn't particularly safe, or even as safe as I'd like it to be. For example, I wish you _both_ did not have to be in the tank, but I-I do feel it's necessary."

He looked momentarily troubled before forcing a smile again. "But over the past year and a half, I have learned a great about the way the mind works—particularly _Olivia's_ mind—as well as the tank's effects. She will lead you through it—she's been through it before. I do believe that this is the best course of action. Son," Peter winced unconsciously at the term and immediately regretted it as Walter's face fell, "_Peter_. If you want this to work… you're going to have to trust me."

"Right," Peter sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Olivia gave him a sympathetic but encouraging smile, but somehow it only made him feel worse. What was he dragging her into? He'd thought it would at least be a _little_ safer than this…

"Your mind needs to be open to a complete re-patterning, far more extreme than the one it underwent twenty years ago. The Cortexiphan should perform that function handily enough for Olivia, along with her abilities, but for you… _Duck_ will open your mind…" He shrugged sheepishly and waved a hand in the air. "A-along with the LSD, of course."

"Of course." Sitting down on a stool, Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and Olivia were going into the tank, to a dangerous dreamscape, helped along by more drugs than any person in their right mind would take in the course of their entire lifetime—including something called _Duck_, of all things.

He hoped he was doing the right thing.

Fifteen minutes later as they were almost ready, he wasn't so sure. "You know, this probably makes us insane," he observed casually as he sat by the tank in nothing but his boxers, wires trailing from their various positions on his body.

Beside him, Olivia was similarly clad in nothing but her underwear and wires. As she rubbed absently at the pins in the back of her neck, she offered a shrug and a sly smirk in response. "'It's remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity,'" she quoted.

He laughed in surprise. "Aw, come on. Everyone knows the last two _Matrix _movies don't really exist—or at least they don't count. I know I always end it after the first one."

She grinned, tilting her head and leaning forward onto her bare arms to look at him. A group of hair slipped over her shoulder and out from behind her ear. "Oh, and I suppose there are only three _Star Wars_ movies too?"

"Hardly a comparable situation," Peter replied, tenderly tucking the hair back in place and leaning in toward her, "but yes."

She laughed softly and leaned in toward him as well, but their smiles faded into seriousness as their eyes met. He let his hand linger on her face, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone as he studied her. His stomach felt frozen. He couldn't remember ever being more afraid of hurting someone he cared so much about. "You're _sure_?" he whispered, searching her face.

Her mouth curved upwards at the edges in a knowing smile. "Yeah. I am," she replied softly. Leaning in closer, she closed the gap between them and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, deepening it just long enough to unfreeze his stomach before pulling back. "And that's the last time you get to ask. I'm sure, Peter. I love you. It's gonna be fine."

"I know. I love you... And I'm all in," he reassured her unwaveringly. They held each other's gaze in comfortable silence, both knowing this felt right.

He smiled at her tenderly, just loving her in that moment. He still couldn't believe she was willing to do this for him. With certainty, he knew that she was the reason he was doing this—and if anything was ever worth it, it was her. Whatever doubts he had and whatever came next, they'd face it together. Because he loved her more than he'd ever thought possible.

He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was to him.

As Astrid came over with the drugs, he reluctantly dropped his hand from Olivia's face and smiled up at their friend. She returned the smile and prepped the first needle of LSD for Olivia. Walter walked over shortly after and did the same for Peter. Peter watched the needle piece his skin and the liquid slide into his veins with a certain degree of wariness. The effect was almost immediate, and he squinted up at Walter as the man injected the Duck as well.

"I told you," Walter said, pushing the last of the solution out of the syringe and removing it from Peter's arm as he stepped back. "It aaaaaaaalways comes back to the _duck_."

Peter's brow creased in confusion. Had his father always had a bill for a nose?

Astrid giggled at his confusion and helped them into the tank. The salt water sloshed around their bodies as she and Walter closed the heavy door, and he almost imagined he could feel the warmth Olivia always made him feel warming the cold water around them, charging it, but he was pretty sure that was just the drugs. As Walter counted them back from ten, telling they were on a descending escalator (wasn't that technically a contradiction?), Peter suddenly found himself in a yawning emptiness and he knew it had begun.

Walter studied the monitors tensely, waiting. The rhythmic blips of the heart monitors soothed his nerves slightly, a steady counter to the irregularity of his anxiety, but they weren't what he was waiting for. Five minutes passed, then ten… until finally, he grinned.

"The licorice please, dear," he whispered to Astrid, pointing energetically toward the jar on the counter.

She returned a moment later with the sugary red ropes and he patted her shoulder in relief. "Look how quickly their brain waves are synchronizing!" he said in delight, taking a bite of his candy with gusto. "Oh, yes, this is going to be good... I think it's almost time."

A room. Blurred out of focus before reforming.

"Olivia, listen to the sound of my voice. Can you hear me?"

A large room.

"Yes."

As the room came into focus, Olivia looked around it just long enough to conclude that it didn't look familiar… and that she was alone. She felt a sharp pang of uneasiness. Where was he? Had she lost him already? "Peter? _Peter_?"

"Olivia, stay calm. I want you to listen to me. In some time, the Cortexiphan will likely cause your mind to create an obstacle for you both to overcome as part of the bonding process. Be prepared for that. But first, you must find Peter. Your minds are almost in synch already… It should be fairly easy. Where are you?"

"I'm… in a house. I think."

"Good. Do you recognize it?"

"No." She studied it again. Carved wood panels lined the high walls, a carved wooden staircase curved just out of sight as she moved out of the room into a hall. Tapestries hung on the walls—elegant, not extravagant, but certainly expensive. European design? Suddenly, a bell rang and she heard what she thought was thunder until streams of children of various ages coursed around her. In the commotion, she couldn't quite make out their accents—certainly English, but it sounded foreign. "It's a school."

"And you don't know it?"

"No." Olivia frowned. "I can feel something…"

"What do you feel?"

She tried to name the feeling. The children scampered out of sight again and she continued her journey down the hall. _The room at the end_, something whispered. "Warm," she said at last. "I hear a piano."

"Good. Follow it."

But she was already halfway there. After a moment, she reached the room and peeked inside. The room was decorated in the same style as the rest of the building, but musical instruments were lined up against the wall—harps, the outlines of cases she assumed housed violins, and others whose shapes she couldn't guess at. In the corner was a grand piano, and at its head was Peter, plunking absently on the keys.

She smiled in relief and immediately relaxed. "I know that song," she said by way of greeting as she stepped into the room. She hummed along for a moment, wishing she knew the words. She almost did…

He looked up in surprise, an amazed grin lighting up his face. "Olivia Dunham. All this time, and you never told me you sang?"

He scootched over on the piano bench to make room for her, and she sat down next to him, placing a kiss on his cheek with a laugh. "I _don't._ But I'm a mean hummer."

He chuckled in reply before glancing around the room. "This… is weird."

"Yeah," she replied, fighting to stay focused despite the slight tilting feeling of acclimating to the dreamscape. "Where are we?"

Peter smiled and turned his gaze back to her. "This? This is a school I subbed at for a couple of months back in the day."

"You were a substitute music teacher at a private school in Europe?" she asked, impressed despite herself.

He laughed. "No. I taught math. But I would come to this room during lunch when no one else was around and play sometimes. It was… soothing." He hesitated, fingers continuing their pattern across the keys even as he grew silent. "It wasn't a very happy time in my life," he admitted after a moment.

She felt a flash of foreign sadness swell in her suddenly—pain dulled by the passage of time, but never fully healed. "You mother had just died a few months before. This was the first job you had to lie to get. You couldn't find anything else, and you were desperate."

The fingers stopped and his eyes darted to hers. "How did you…?"

"You were ashamed, afraid you had let her down somehow. She was always the one who wanted you to learn piano… So you'd come here and play. But it never made up for the guilt of the lie, so you left at the end of the school year, even though they wanted you to stay on."

Peter stared at her, eyes vulnerable and questioning. "Olivia…?"

She shook her head, just as confused as she knew he was as to how she knew. "I don't know."

Suddenly, the scene changed. A flash of light, emptiness, and suddenly it was a graveyard—painfully sunny. Inappropriately so, given the clump of black-clad mourners around one grave in particular. She looked closer. There was her great aunt Hannah, she realized in surprise. And her mother's friend Grace. And Rachel…

"Oh, God," she whispered. She knew where this was. Her eyes darted through the crowd until she spotted herself, her face gaunt and shadowed. Her younger self's eyes were focused and intense, scanning the surroundings of her mother's funeral with a ramrod straight back. Tense. Waiting.

"You thought he'd be there," Peter whispered beside her, staring at the scene with the same hollow eyes she felt on her own face. "You expected your step-father to show up, so you were watching for him. You hadn't slept the night before because Rachel had gotten drunk and you were taking care of her and worrying about _him_, so when you did spot him… you thought you were just going crazy." They watched a shadow of a man stand to watch the proceedings for a moment some distance away before he slunk over a hill and disappeared.

She turned her gaze to Peter, astonished. How was it possible that they could know that? She'd never told anyone, had practically forgotten herself, and she knew the same was true for Peter. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when Walter had said "bonding," but it hadn't been this. His bewildered amazement intertwined with hers, the feel of him coursing through her mind and heart, but deeper still. She could feel him in the very core of her being… And somehow she sensed the process wasn't even complete yet. "This is supposed to happen, right?" she wondered in an unsteady voice, running a hand down his arm. "This… whatever this is?"

Peter frowned, expression troubled even as she felt his unnerved awe. He traced his fingers along her jaw as he tentatively probed whatever this bond was between them. "I don't know. Your guess is as good as—"

With an abrupt, jilting tilt, the scene changed again—but it was different this time.

Dark.

"—mine," he finished, staggering from the sudden shift. Taking in their new surroundings, he moved closer to her protectively and steadied her as she adjusted as well. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," she answered in a whisper. A whisper seemed appropriate for this place. She knew this darkness. Something about the slanted tinge to it was familiar… and it made her stomach tense in fear. She felt Peter wrap comfort around the emotion like a blanket, and she gripped his hand. "Can you hear Walter?"

"No. Maybe we're in too deep."

She nodded and shivered slightly. It was cold. Bone-chillingly _cold_. As she watched, a drift of snow collected at their feet out of the darkness, blown by a driving wind that kicked up seemingly out of nowhere. Olivia winced. If this was their mind, couldn't they at least have coats? But there was nothing around, and she and Peter were wearing only a black long-sleeved shirts and slacks. They huddled together to keep warm as they studied the desolate scene around them. He put his arm around her and rubbed her arm absently to try to increase circulation to the freezing limb.

"And here I was hoping that winter was over," he teased, trying to lighten the suffocating mood of the empty dark and cold.

"D-damn Boston weather," she joked weakly in reply through chattering teeth. This must be the obstacle, she realized dimly—from the Cortexiphan, like Walter had said. She absently missed the temperate forest of her last obstacle. As terrifying as it had been, at least it had been warm.

Suddenly, she saw a flash of something out of the corner of her eye and she straightened. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah." Peter had stopped rubbing her arm, eyes focused in the direction where the movement had come from. The scene lightened slightly and they could see a shed of sorts through the driving snow. "I think he went in there!" Peter shouted to be heard above noise of the increasing wind. Snowflakes were clinging to the hint of a beard he held onto in order to hide the boyishness of his face, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he raised a hand to gently brush the flakes from her hair. "I think we're supposed to follow him!"

Olivia frowned. "Him?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling."

She could feel it too, but the feeling was wispy and vague. The one thing she knew for certain was that whoever he was, they needed to find him. Together, they crept toward the shed. She wished for a moment that she had a gun, but a part of her answered that she wouldn't need it.

At last they reached the door, and Olivia slowly pushed it open. The shed was dusty, damp and dark, littered with various tools, a wheelbarrow, some boards. Shielded from the wind, it was eerily quiet. She turned to examine the corner behind the door before suddenly one of the boards launched at them, pushing them back out of the shed. As they fell back onto the snow, their quarry leapt around them and took off at a run.

She immediately jumped to her feet, helping Peter up, and the two took off after what she clearly recognized as the figure of a man. Peter had been right. Something about the figure was familiar though, she noted idly. But before she had a chance to think on it further, the scene had suddenly changed again.

It was summer. Raining. Her hair hung in limp clumps from her head as drops dripped into her face, into her eyes. She wiped them away and glanced at Peter, who was similarly drenched and glaring at their surroundings with unwavering focus.

"Where did he go?" he demanded tensely.

She shook her head and looked around. It was an alley, empty. The rain made a hollow pinging noise as it fell on some rusty gutter overhead, but Olivia could hear nothing else besides Peter catching his breath beside her. Suddenly, he grasped her arm. "Hey—hey, there he goes!" Taking her hand in his, he launched after the fleeing figure, pulling her with him, out of the alley and onto the deserted street. They ran until they saw the man turn a corner, out of sight.

When they reached the intersection where he'd disappeared, they paused. Wide eyed and panting slightly, she tried to calm the heart that was pounding from more than exertion. Urgency pumped through her body with every beat of her heart, and she somehow knew it beat in time with Peter's as they focused on their goal. They needed to _find_ him! She didn't know how or why, but somehow everything depended on catching that man. Everything. But where was he? She swung her head around, searching, and wiped away a strand of hair that clung damply to her face.

"There!" she said at last. Not letting go of Peter's hand, she started running again. Within moments, they were gaining.

Twenty feet away.

Ten.

Five…

Another few moments and Peter was close enough to jump the man, tackling him forcefully, face down, onto the ground. "Why are you running from us?" he demanded, his fierce glare growing as the man struggled but remained silent. "Answer me! Who are you?"

But Olivia took a step back, trying to catch her breath. Something in her stomach was churning in dread, a whisper of something she wasn't sure she wanted confirmed. She knew who it was even before he flipped his captive over to reveal an all too familiar face.

It was Peter.

A look of horror and bewilderment spread across her Peter's face, and he shook his other self by the shirt, pinning him. His fury, confusion and fear washed over Olivia more tangibly than the rain. She fought to control her breathing as she tried to sort through the new wave of his emotions that pulsed desperately through her. "Why are you _running_?" he demanded again of his doppelganger, his glare pierced by uncertainty. _I don't understand…_ she heard him think.

But the Peter on the ground shook his head. He was pale, discomfited. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Taking a step closer, she read in his eyes how lost he felt, could almost feel it. As she looked back up at her Peter, she saw the lost expression mirrored on his face as well as he clearly realized what was going on. And as soon as he knew, she did too.

"I don't know who I am anymore," the man on the ground whispered. His eyes moved plaintively to hers. "Olivia…"

She watched in horror as the pinned Peter vanished.

A/N – Another cliffhanger?? Am I cruel? Perhaps. But it was too big for one chapter! What's a girl to do? If it's any consolation, I'll hopefully have the next chapter up this weekend, barring anything cataclysmic happening. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to review! : )


	15. Chapter 15

A/N – And let that be a lesson to me not to speak glibly of cataclysmic happenings. Sigh. Sorry for the delay; things got uber-crazy. And sorry for the apparent lack of section dividers in the last chapter… not sure what happened there. Anyway, here's the new chapter. Enjoy! : )

Chapter 15

Astrid looked frantically from screen to screen as the devices monitoring Peter and Olivia began beeping in protest. Walter rapidly typed something into the computer before jumping over to the communication device and pushing down the button that would carry his voice into the tank. "Peter? Olivia? If you can hear me, answer me. Peter, Olivia, answer me!" He made a noise of frustration, glanced at the readout of their brainwaves, and pushed the button again. "Peter. Olivia. _Can you hear me_?"

"What happened?" Astrid wondered tensely.

"I suspect they're still facing the obstacle," he answered, eyebrows knit together in concern. "It must have brought them down too deeply for communication. They're obviously distressed… but I-I think they're supposed to be."

"You _think_?"

He shook his head and shrugged helplessly. "Up until we began this, this process was entirely theoretical. I'm afraid I have no answers at the moment." He turned back to the microphone. "Peter, Olivia, canyou hear me?"

Making a frustrated motion with one hand, Astrid turned away from him and toward the sound of the door closing behind them. To her surprise, their supervisor walked in and immediately paused, glancing around the lab with a rapidly growing frown at what he saw.

"Agent Broyles!" Astrid said, sending a nervous glance over her shoulder toward Walter. She took a step forward and forced a smile. "What are… what are you doing here?"

Broyles' eyes widened as his eyes roved the lab, taking in Walter busy at the computers, the screens showing Peter and Olivia jerking occasionally, attached to wires and submerged in water. "Dunham and Bishop weren't answering their phones, and neither were you. I was in the neighborhood," he replied. "I _thought_ I'd just drop by." He fixed a stern gaze on Astrid and she shrunk into herself. "What the hell is going on here, agent?"

"I, uh… I…"

Walter suddenly caught sight of him. "Ah, Agent Broyles, hello!"

"Doctor," Broyles replied gruffly. "What exactly is it that you're doing? Is that… Are Agent Dunham and Peter in that tank?"

"Well… yes. But I'm afraid I can't talk now; this is a very delicate… I need to concentrate, you see. Good of you to stop by though! Goodbye!"

The perplexed crease on Broyles' brow faded into severity and he raised his eyebrows at Astrid ominously. "_Explain_."

Astrid swallowed. How to even begin? At last she settled on a brief synopsis, describing Peter's illness and the bonding process, and that Olivia was apparently the only one who could help. She watched Broyles' impassive face, trying futilely to gauge his reaction as she finished the explanation. After a moment of silence, he gave her a disapproving look and turned back to Walter.

"Doctor Bishop. I understand why you're doing this—but I need assurances," he demanded in a low voice. He raised a hand toward the tank. "Is this safe?"

"Is this _safe_?" Walter repeated incredulously, clearly irked at being interrupted again. "Of _course_ it's not safe! No matter what I do I could never make it _safe_. But it would be a hell of a lot _safer_ if I could focus on the task at hand!"

Broyles was clearly seething under the surface at the response—she could read it in the stiff rigidity of his tall frame as he traded glares with Walter. But there was an uncanny glint of understanding in the special agent's eyes as well. He sighed and turned to Astrid, voice tense and tightly constrained. "Notify me the moment they're done. I need to have a few _words_ with Agent Dunham."

Astrid swallowed timidly. "Yes, sir."

She watched him leave as Walter continued to entreat Peter and Olivia to answer him. The two didn't respond, and she felt a swell of uneasiness. She hoped Walter knew what he was doing.

Peter felt a flash of fear, abrupt and burning, before Olivia abruptly closed herself off to him. Where their fledgling bond had once glowed there was now only a throbbing emptiness of stifled truth and silence. He rose to his feet slowly, feeling suddenly empty from the loss of the connection, but he couldn't look at her. The rain continued to pour around on them—fragile droplets spattered on an unyielding pavement.

"What did he mean, Peter?"

At last, he dragged his gaze from the place where his doppelganger had been only moments before. There was a defensive set to Olivia's jaw, but her eyes didn't waver from his.

"You know what he meant," he answered softly.

She nodded, mouth quirking in that way of hers. He still felt the empty ache of the blocked bond, but he didn't need it to sense her raw hurt. "So that's it then?" she demanded. Her voice wavered. "After everything, after all of this, you're just going to leave anyway? I mean, what was the point in any of this if the whole time, you knew you were just going to leave?"

"Olivia… It's not that—"

"You want to leave," she said again, voice quiet but firm. She didn't say it as an accusation. In her eyes he read no blame, only muted understanding. She knew why he had to go back. But there was also fear. He could see it radiating off her, along with her pain. Her tear-filled eyes screamed alternately _I understand, it's okay_ and _You're leaving me_, and he felt his throat close up in regret. When he'd been afraid of hurting Olivia by going through with the bonding process, this hadn't been what he'd meant. Somehow he'd hurt her just the same.

But at least this he could fix, he thought in desperation. Although this wasn't the way he'd imagined this conversation going down, he couldn't think of a better way for it to happen than somewhere where his heart was quite literally an open book to her. Where any misunderstands could be cleared up by the depth of the connection they shared—if only she'd let him in. He just needed to get her to open up to him again, to make her understand.

He took a tentative step toward her.

"Come on, Liv, you know that's not true," he whispered pleadingly, reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm not leaving you. You have to be able to feel that." Pausing, his eyes softened as they rested on her. She looked up at him hesitantly, as if holding her breath, and he brushed his hand against her cheek as he leaned in toward her. "Sweetheart… there are very few things that I have _ever_ been sure about in my life—and it seems like even fewer recently, with all that's been going on. But one thing I've always been sure of… is you. Pretty much since day one. I love you. I have always—_will_ always—love you."

Tilting her head forward, she rested her forehead against his cheek, nuzzling it gently, and he turned his head to place a tender kiss on it. "I love you too," she whispered, and he felt his breath catch as she pulled away again, face millimeters from his. "So much, and I…" Her eyes turned up to his as she leaned in again infinitesimally, struggling, but he could see there was so much she wasn't saying. So much she was begging him to understand.

Peter cautiously probed the unfamiliar feeling of the bond with his mind, feeling it open up again slowly at his gentle prompting. He wanted to understand, needed to, and he felt her welcome him into her mind, enveloping him, and his breath quickened at how right it felt. He studied the familiar curves of her face, heart breaking at the pain he read there. _Why are you so afraid?_ he wondered, not knowing if she could even hear him._ You _know_ I won't leave you…_ But he was surprised a moment later when he heard—or rather, felt—her answer loud and clear.

_Everyone leaves_.

"Liv…" he immediately countered, but he saw how true she thought it was for the men in her own life. Her father, gone. Her step-father, abusive. Various boyfriends and friends, all ending in disaster, or worse. John. Charlie. One way or another, everyone had left.

_Everyone leaves._

_Everyone._

And every time, it hurt worse.

"But not you," she whispered with a fragile smile, trying to draw him out of the well of her sorrow where he'd fallen. "I kept expecting it to happen—I-I guess I keep expecting it to. But not you." Running her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, she held his gaze. "Peter… you've been there for me, in ways that no one ever has before. Ways that most people in their right mind would never even consider," she teased, and he smiled softly despite himself. He could feel her remembering, and the image flashed in his mind of him staying after John died despite his debts, of him leaping after her to save her from the mole baby, of him just pouring her coffee as they worked together on a case, joking together in comfortable but flirtatious familiarity.

Her eyes softened along with her voice. "You stayed for me, every time—even when you had every reason to leave. You always stayed, and…" She smiled shyly. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'll always love you too." He returned the smile and touched her cheek, feeling warm despite the rain. With that she closed the gap between them, and he brought his other hand up to cradle her face as they kissed.

After a moment, they drew apart, eyes closed as they savored the feeling of the kiss, of their emotions intertwined so intimately. He may not have understood this bond, but he knew he never wanted to go back to feeling the empty ache from the lack of it again. He needed her, and he knew he was just as afraid of losing her as she was of him. They needed each other.

But he still had to go to the other side, despite the potential danger and the reservations he could feel from her about that danger. Words were unnecessary at this point, but he still felt the need to say them out loud. He let out a reluctant breath.

"I _have_ to go, Liv."

She nodded, holding him close to her. "I know. Your family deserves to know the truth, and you need to understand that missing piece, otherwise you'll never know… You'll have this part of you that will always wonder…" Her voice broke off uneasily. She understood. She did. How could she not when she could feel it so clearly at her very core? But a nagging voice in the back of her head still kept insisting that he was leaving because she wasn't enough. She'd never felt closer to anyone in her life, but she still couldn't banish her most deep-seated of insecurities. Swallowing tightly, she tried to stifle the errant thought. She knew it wasn't true.

He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a lingering kiss on her shoulder. "I'd never go without you. I was hoping you would come with me." A flash of longing stirred in her stomach as he kissed her neck. "I need you to."

"You know I will." She smiled up at him waveringly. "We'll find a way. This is important."

His eyes searched hers, and she could feel him sensing the thought she'd tried to hide. Her smile faded as he frowned in concern. "Sweetheart… you're more than enough for me. You know that's not why we have to go."

Averting her eyes, she nodded. "I know."

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, resting his chin against her. She relished the very real feel of his beard against her skin as she closed her eyes. "No matter how lost or confused I've felt lately, you've done more to help me find purpose in my life than I would have thought possible. You were grounding me even before this whole process," he admitted softly. "And if I'm meant to be anywhere, it's with you. That's the only thing I know."

She nodded. "And we will figure this out," she reassured him firmly. Hand resting on his chest, she felt his last seed of doubt fade in relief of her acceptance. She knew he needed her as much as he needed to go, and the last thing she wanted was to make this harder for him than it already was. "We'll find a way to get there and contact your family and figure all of this out. You don't have to feel lost anymore, sweetheart."

His eyes searched hers as he pulled away and she could feel his love, how much he needed her, how much he hoped she needed him the same way. She felt that same need rise up in her and she answered by pressing her lips to his again. He responded hungrily, molding his body against hers. She traced a hand up his back before grinning slightly. "And call me sweetheart one more time," she teased in a low whisper as she leaned into him, lips a breath away from his. "I'd really like that."

He held her closer and laughed against her mouth as he kissed her again. "Whatever you say, _sweetheart_."

Her grin widened. A shiver ran up her back as he slipped a hand under her shirt to gently trace the skin. She felt their deepening kiss run down through her core as she pulled him closer still in joy, barely noticing that their surroundings faded again to a peaceful white as they explored their new bond together.

"What was that?" Astrid asked as Olivia and Peter's vitals jumped, synchronizing as they quickened. At least the angry beeping had stopped.

"Hmm?" Walter responded distractedly. He studied the readouts with a secretive smile and shook his head. "Oh, nothing. I think they're all right now. We'll just give them a bit more time before trying to pull them out again." He waved his hand in a dismissive motion. "They'll be fine."

Astrid squinted at him suspiciously. Well, he seemed to have adopted a very devil-may-care attitude about the whole thing all of the sudden, she thought before it dawned on her what the changes must mean. She glanced at the screens again and blushed with a small smile.

_Oh_.

She cleared her throat and looked away, still smiling. Yes, she had a feeling those two would be just fine.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N – Hey there! So several minor crises and a couple of happy but very time-consuming events later, I'm back! Sorry for letting this story hang so long! But I do intend to finish it. I wanted to get this chapter up as soon as I could and I'm a bit out of the writing groove, so apologies if it's not up to snuff. I hope you enjoy it anyway! : )

oooooooooooo

They were sleeping. Peacefully even, if appearances were anything to go by, Walter observed suspiciously. After emerging from the tank, the two had practically passed out on the couch in the back room in exhaustion, arms looped casually across one another as they'd drifted off. Perfectly fine, apparently, all problems behind them.

Appearance, however, was something Walter had learned to distrust long ago. Just because they'd seemed all right, did not mean they were—and he was certain they were not somehow. Something wasn't right. Something… But Walter had checked on them often enough in the following hours that even he had to admit that their vitals were surprisingly good. They were recovering better than even he had anticipated.

Nothing to worry about. Apparently.

The only evidence to the contrary was the fact that his stomach felt like someone had poured lead into it. Something was off, he was _certain_—he just didn't know what. A look Peter had given him, the way Olivia had avoided his eyes for a moment… His mind had fixated on the fear he had conveyed to Olivia earlier. Was Peter really happy staying here? Walter stared at them, watching them sleep as his stomach sank a little more and tears welled up in his eyes. Peter would leave him after all; he knew it. What would he do without Peter? What would he do without his son?

Footsteps sounded behind him, hesitating before approaching him slowly. He recognized those footsteps, he thought, and sure enough, their owner put a gentle hand on his shoulder after a moment. "Come on, Walter," Astrid soothed. Her voice was pitched in an attempt at upbeat even as she studied him in uncertainty. "They're fine. It'll be all right… Right?"

He turned to meet her eyes with a weak smile, arms wrapped around himself. "Yes, yes of course."

Her smile shifted and her eyes filled with pity. "How about some music, hmm? Something to calm your nerves? Then we can make your favorite cookies if you want…"

Walter sighed. "That would be lovely, dear," he conceded, hugging his arms a little tighter to himself. He didn't want cookies, but he suspected it would make her feel better to feel that she was working to make him feel better somehow. Action soothed the restless soul. He knew that better than anyone. "Something classical to listen to while we bake, perhaps?" he suggested.

The shoulders of her plaid jacket eased down in obvious relief at his cooperation. "Absolutely! Why don't you start getting out the ingredients and I'll get the music?"

He nodded, and she headed off to put a record on. After a moment, he moved away in the opposite direction to find the flour, patting Gene as he passed her. "You'll never leave me, will you, girl?" he asked of the cow. Gene turned her baleful brown eyes on him and chewed for a moment before bending down for another mouthful of hay. He patted her again. He supposed that was the most he was likely to get out of her. Lab cows, he knew, were a highly intelligent breed, but she never had been a very talkative creature. "Good cow," he said as he moved away. The massive animal shifted her weight and Walter caught sight of his stash of drugs behind the milking pail. He frowned. A supplement to take the edge off? Just a bit?

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he reached over and grabbed the bottle. He shook out a rough-hewn pill and popped it into his mouth, letting out a breath of satisfaction as he felt the familiar tingle on his tongue, down his throat. The feeling had spread to the tips of his fingers by the time he'd reached the pantry, and he'd almost convinced himself that maybe everything would be all right after all. He wouldn't lose Peter—not after everything. A smile eeked up at the corners of his mouth as he heard the beginnings of Astrid's musical selection drift across the room.

At first, he didn't recognize the song. The lilting melody bounced off the cement walls, and he swayed appreciatively to the tune… But then the lead in his stomach solidified into cold dread. He suddenly recalled the haggard gray of Elizabeth's face as he'd headed up the stairs to their son's room for the final time, the feel of Peter's tiny hand in his as he'd whispered empty promises to the boy, the limpness of his little body as his breath had finally left him… all to the tune of this song. This damn song had been playing the first time he'd lost his son—and now it was playing again.

"Oh, God…" he choked out, tears escaping from his eyes at last. _Peter_… He blinked at his tears, willing his agony to subside, but it was useless. He barely took the time to grab his coat before he headed out the door.

oooooooooo

A moment later, Astrid emerged from the back room with a recipe in one hand and a soft smile on her face. The smile faded in panic as she looked around and realized that Walter Bishop was no longer in the lab.

He was gone.

oooooooooo

Peter woke, groggy and disoriented. Like the residue of a pleasant dream, a peaceful warmth flowed through him, and he found he didn't mind that he didn't immediately know where he was or what had happened. He smiled, nuzzling in closer to the solid form melded against his. He breathed deep and recognized the scent, pressing his lips against her hair.

Olivia.

As he shifted and opened his eyes, he felt her doing the same and she looked up at him. His eyes crinkled up at the edges sleepily. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," she whispered back with a matching expression. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes crinkled a little more as he felt the familiarly strange feeling of her happiness growing in the pit of his stomach. "Actually? I feel great. In fact, I haven't felt this great in…" He trailed off, thinking, then raised his eyebrows. "Ever, I think."

Olivia smiled in relief as they helped each other sit up. Did that mean it had worked then? she wondered. Would he be all right now?

Peter shrugged absently in response to her unspoken question. "After all that, I better be, or Walter's got some serious explaining to do."

Staring, Olivia tilted her head. Her surprise washed over him as he realized what he'd done, and she shook her head in awe. This could take some getting used to.

Suddenly, Astrid came into the room, and the two looked up to see her standing in the doorway. "Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" she said. She glanced distractedly around the room, but her shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment at what she saw—or didn't see. She ran a hand over her hair with a frown. "Have either of you seen Walter?"

"No," Peter replied, rising from his seat on the bed. A wave of dread tightened his stomach. "Why?"

"I can't find him anywhere, and he didn't leave a note," she replied, waving a hand through the air in helpless exasperation. "I just went to go put on some more music for him—something classical like he asked for while we waited—but when I came back, he was gone!"

They could hear the faint strains of classical music filtering through the walls, and Peter furrowed his brow in thought. Something about this song was familiar… He got up and made his way into the next room and over to the record player, followed closely by Olivia and Astrid. Hesitating, he picked up the dusty album cover and frowned.

"He always hated this album," he said in confusion. "Wouldn't let me so much as go near it as a kid… Putting it on must have triggered something."

"Oh, Peter, I'm sorry—I had no idea," Astrid lamented, eyes wide. "If I'd known, I never would have—"

One side of his mouth turned up at her sadly. "It's not your fault. But I think I know where he is."

Olivia tilted her head, but Astrid looked up in a combination of relief and incredulity. "Where? How do you know?"

"Call it intuition. Astrid, I need you to find a grave for me."

"Okay. Whose?"

"Mine."

Astrid's eyes widened further, but Olivia held his gaze, pensive. "You think he went to your grave—the you from this universe's. You think this song reminds Walter of his death somehow?"

As Astrid headed over to the computer to look up the grave, he nodded, absently watching her progess. "It would make sense. I always got the impression that he hated this album because of me, because of something I'd done, but I could never figure out what. I remember I was looking at it one day when I was a kid and he seemed terrified that I was touching it, like it was cursed or something… but he never got rid of it. It must have been because of the other me, something that reminded Walter of _him_, and he couldn't throw it out because it was one of his only ties to him."

Olivia's mouth quirked to one side sympathetically, and he knew she could feel how weird this was for him. Her smile and wave of comfort relaxed him a little though, and he touched her hand in gratitude.

"Here it is!" Astrid suddenly called out in awe, causing her companions to start and run over. "The only one on record for the target years: Peter Bishop, 1978 – 1985. Here's the address of the graveyard and the plot number."

He quickly wrote it down as Olivia stepped up next to him. "I'm going with you," she said, and he couldn't help feeling relieved as he looked up into her steady face. Although it would probably be best if he did this alone, he wasn't sure he wanted to face his own grave and his alternate self without Olivia's solid presence grounding him.

"Oh, wait, Olivia…" Astrid interrupted regretfully. "Agent Broyles came in while you two were in the tank… I don't think he was too happy with what we were doing. He insisted he wanted to see you as soon as you woke up."

Peter could feel Olivia's protective irritation swell as she opened her mouth to reply, but he spoke up first. "It's all right. You go. I can handle this." He rested a hand on her arm and held her gaze. _Broyles has to know we're leaving… We can't just disappear. Beside, I don't know if Walter remembers how… or if he'll want to help. We might need Massive Dynamic, and we won't be able to hide that from Broyles._

Olivia hesitated for a moment before nodding. "All right." _But let me know if you need me_, she countered._ I'll be there._

Leaning forward, he drew her into a gentle kiss. "I know. See you soon."

She drew away reluctantly and grabbed her coat. With one final glance over her shoulder, she was out the door. He waited as she moved down the hall to see if the feel of her would wane with distance, but to his relief it didn't seem to—or at least the effect wasn't appreciable at this distance. He sighed.

"Astrid, would you mind staying here, in case he comes back?"

"Of course," she replied with a reassuring nod. "Good luck."

"Thanks." He'd need it, he thought as he made his way out the door. Although his gut was telling him that this was where Walter was, he knew it was still a gamble. He just hoped it was one that was going to pay off for him this time.

ooooooooo

Olivia reached the park where Broyles had requested they meet fifteen minutes after leaving the lab. The light of the setting sun was hitting the snowy branches at an angle, causing them to glow, almost glimmer, and she smiled as she thought back on Peter's glimmer. After they'd woken from the tank, she'd barely been able to see it at all anymore. Peter would be all right—at least for now.

What would happen when they got to the other side was a different story.

A part of her didn't want to go. Somewhere in the back of her mind, klaxons were screaming that this was a bad idea. But she couldn't erase the look on Peter's face as he'd realized the gravity of his doppleganger's words and what his running meant. She couldn't forget the pleading desperation in the doppleganger's eyes as he'd turned to her, as if she could save him… and she'd failed.

"_I don't know who I am anymore… Olivia…"_

Olivia swallowed thickly. She wasn't going to fail him. She wouldn't let this destroy him the way it had the doppelganger. She couldn't lose him. No matter the risk, he had a right to work this out, and his original family had a right to know the truth.

At last, she spotted the lanky frame of her boss rounding a tree on the paved path. He caught sight of her and nodded as he approached. "Dunham."

She nodded in reply and shifted her stance. "Sir. You, uh… you wanted to speak to me?"

His eyes bored into her for a moment and she could practically hear the gears turning as he tried to work out how to best say what he needed to say. After a beat, he sighed. "What happened today was unacceptable, Dunham. I can't have you risking yourself in situations like that and not keeping me informed. I need to know everything—past, present, and future—about the way this division is being run and what my agents are doing in order to make sure it _keeps _running." His voice dropped in a mix of irritation and concern. "What if something had happened today? Don't pretend it wasn't dangerous."

Olivia shook her head "Walter would never have let it come to that. And besides, I've been in the tank before—"

Broyles' eyebrows shot up. "You've done this before?"

"Well, not this particular procedure, no—"

"Dunham, what _else_ aren't you telling me?" he demanded in exasperation.

She clenched her jaw and tilted her head. Where to even begin? "Sir, I'd like a leave from duty. Just a short one, maybe a week."

He shifted and crossed his arms. "Oh? And may I ask why? Or is that a secret too?"

"I…" She turned her gaze up to him hesitantly. "Sir, Peter's not from here. He's confused and hurt and the family where he came from has a right to know what happened to him and that he's all right. I know it's not exactly by the books, but…" She spread her hands and shook her head helplessly. "Look, you know I wouldn't be asking unless it were important. I _have_ to be there for him."

"You mean… go to the alternate universe, back where he came from?" he asked in what she suspected was as close as he got to aghast horror. "I seriously doubt that's a good idea, given what we know—and what we know isn't much."

"I _have_ to," she said firmly. Even now she could feel Peter's confusion and pain boiling under the surface at the edge of her mind. If it were her, she'd have to go too, and she couldn't bear to have him feeling this way. She couldn't lose him to this.

Broyles' eyes bored into hers, studying her unyieldingly. At last she saw a flicker of sympathy, but it was tempered with sternness. "Dunham… This is getting out of hand. I think I've been pretty patient given the recent turn of events, but you're my lead agent. I know you have a certain… stake in this particular issue, but I can't have you putting yourself at risk like this, without so much as consulting me. I need you here, in top condition, so we can do our _job_."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Olivia said carefully. "But I feel that part of doing my job has always been to be proactive in following any leads I may come across. If we can get to the other side and contact the people there, it's possible we could figure out what exactly is going on. It's possible Walternate knows."

Broyles raised his eyebrows. "Walternate?"

"Yeah," Olivia winced with an apologetic smile. "That's what Walter calls him, the Walter from the other side."

"And do you really think he'll cooperate with you? From everything we've seen, it seems as if Newton and these shapeshifting soldiers are trying to make sure that this side is the universe that's eliminated. We can't make the assumption from that anyone from the other side would be willing to help you."

Olivia smiled weakly. "He's his _son_. I'm sure Walternate would understand."

"If I approve this, it would essentially mean sending you blind into enemy territory—for a family visit—"

"—for recon as well. Sir, we need to know whatever we can about what we're dealing with, and we can't do that from here!"

"Regardless, how would you even get there?"

She grimaced. "We haven't exactly figured that out yet."

He sighed again. "I'm still not convinced," he said after a moment, still watching her. "But I'll give you the go-ahead for now. _If_ you can figure out how to get over there—and back—_safely_… it could be an invaluable opportunity to gain intel."

With a grin, Olivia nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And Dunham," he called as she turned to move away. He nodded sympathetically. "I hope Peter finds what he's looking for."

Her grin faded to a worried smile. "Me too."

ooooooooooo

It was getting dark. The bare trees were looking appropriately skeletal and mournful, the perfect sentinels for the dreary place he was entering. Peter shivered and stuffed his hands farther into his coat pockets. While he had never been superstitious, it somehow didn't seem like the best of ideas to be trudging around a graveyard at night—especially one with his own grave in it.

He wasn't sure why the concept was making him so uneasy. In the past year, he'd pretty much run the gamut of uncanny encounters. This should just be another tick mark in the wall of weird he kept in his mind. But as he followed the path through the rows of cold stone and decaying leaves and dirty snow, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering. He wondered if his family on the other side had ever held a funeral for him. Was the image of that alternate Elizabeth, mourning over an empty grave, what had ultimately driven his mother to suicide—the knowledge that she'd caused that Elizabeth the pain she herself had felt after her own son's death? Had it all been because of him?

The knowledge that it was too late to make everything all right weighed down on him, and he clung to the feel of Olivia in the back of his mind. The feeling hadn't faded with distance as he'd feared, but as they'd moved farther apart it had become more muffled somehow, like trying to talk underwater. He turned off of the path and into a row of graves, kicking a drift of muddy snow out of the way as he went. The sooner he got back to her and out of this place, the better.

At last he caught sight of Walter up ahead, standing hunch-shouldered by a little grey grave. Peter picked up his pace, relieved that his hunch had panned out. "Walter," he breathed in relief as he approached him. The breath hung in the air limply, and he stomped his feet to keep warm in the cold that had settled on him once he'd stopped walking. Damn, he hated the cold. "Walter, what are you doing out here? What d'ya say we get out of here, hm? Somewhere warm?" When the man didn't respond, he frowned in concern and took out a gloved hand to place on his shoulder. "Hey, Walter…"

Starting, Walter turned his head and blinked at him. "Peter…?"

"That's right," Peter confirmed with a confused smile. "Come on, Walter, let's go home." He moved to walk away, but the scientist shook his head insensibly and turned back to the grave. Damn. He'd known it wouldn't be that easy.

"I failed him," Walter whispered, shaking his head again. "I failed him, I failed my son—"

"Hey, Walter, shh… it's okay…" he soothed, rubbing his hand along the older man's back. He floundered for something reassuring to say but found himself at a loss. "It's okay…"

"No, no it's _not_ okay," Walter countered tearfully. "It's not okay, it can never _be_ okay, because of me, I couldn't…" He dissolved into tears as he looked into Peter's face. "It's all for nothing if you're gone too…"

Peter continued to rub his back, but stiffened suspiciously. Gone? He hadn't gone anywhere… Did he mean the other Peter? Was that who Walter thought he was talking to? He quickly studied Walter to see if he was lucid, but with Walter it was always so hard to tell whether he was on something. The scientist might know who the person standing in front of him really was, but he could just as easily think he was speaking to some manifestation of the boy in the grave.

Against his will, Peter felt a small pang of jealousy for the anguished love he read in Walter's face. Walter had become so obsessed with his childhood lately, that much he knew, but he suddenly realized that it wasn't _his_ childhood at all—it was the other Peter's. _His_ toys, his pictures, his memories. He felt a lump grow in his throat. The other Peter was the original… He was just the replacement. And one that Walter had never wanted to keep to begin with, that had caused nothing but guilt and insanity and destruction by staying. He knew it wasn't his fault, but… He swallowed thickly.

When Walter moved in to cry on his shoulder, Peter let him. But the lost feeling that had been haunting him since he'd discovered the truth deepened a little more. Had Walter ever really loved him, for him? Or had he always been overshadowed by the memory of the boy in the grave? Did Walter maybe even… resent him a little, for not being _him_ and instead being a constant reminder of what Walter had done?

He knew what Olivia would say. She'd insist that Walter did love him, that he knew that, but he couldn't help feeling now more than ever that he had to go back to where he'd come from. He loved the man he'd come to know over the past couple of years, but he'd begun to realize what he suspected he'd always known in his heart—that man was not his father, and he needed to find the man that was. Somewhere, he had a father, a mother, a whole other family maybe, who he was as dead to as this Peter was to Walter. Except he was still alive.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

Peter hesitated and then nodded, momentarily speechless as he tried to swallow his regret. He had to leave. He didn't have a choice. "Yes." Was that what Walter had meant by "gone" though? That he was leaving? Maybe he hadn't thought he was talking to Peter #1 after all. It almost didn't matter though.

Walter nodded as well, tears welling in his eyes, but he didn't argue. "Have you told Olivia yet?"

"She's coming with me," he replied, studying Walter and deciding that he seemed to be pretty cognizant. Maybe the scientist _had_ known it was the replacement the whole time. But then what had he meant by 'it was all for nothing?' That Walter's shattering the universes was all for nothing if Peter went back to the other side… if he lost him too? His stomach twisted. "Walter, I… I'm sorry…"

"No, son, I'm the one who should be sorry." Walter let out a wavering sigh and gripped the collar of Peter's jacket as though trying to draw comfort from the contact. "I understand. I think… I think I've always known this day would come, from the day we decided to keep you here." He released the collar, then gripped it again, eyes averted as they welled with tears. "Will… will you be back?"

Peter coughed a little to try to dislodge the lump in his own throat. This was so much harder than he'd imagined. "I don't know," he managed to get out hoarsely. "I hope so. Olivia's life is here, Rachel, Ella, everything… I can't take her away from that." And now that he was with Olivia, he wanted to stay that way. He couldn't lose her again.

Nodding, Walter tried to smile. "I see."

"Walter…" Peter hesitated, then shifted and sighed. "Look… as truly bizarre—and somewhat twisted—as it seems, this past year has actually been one of the happiest of my life. No matter what you think, the decision to go… it hasn't been easy for me. I like what we have going here, that we're finally… but I can't just…" He cleared his throat again, the words failing him. Still, he felt that Walter understood from the watery way he was smiling up at him, and Peter pulled him into a tight hug. "We'll be back," he promised into his father's coat.

He felt Walter nodding into his shoulder, and they stayed like that for a moment, not speaking. Eventually, Peter drew back and smiled gently at him. "What do you say we get out of this cold, huh?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Walter agreed, but he glanced back at the grave and hesitated.

Peter followed his gaze and shivered. "You know, he wouldn't want you beating yourself up like this," he said at last.

"How can you be sure?" Walter asked in a vulnerable voice, not looking up.

"Because _I _don't want you to. And I have a feeling we would have been pretty like-minded," he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, putting an arm around Walter's shoulders and gently steering him away. "Come on, Walter, let's go home."

The scientist's eyes warmed as he turned away from the grave and back to Peter. "I'm very glad I have you, son—for however long it turns out to be. Your mother and I always loved you very much, and I-I don't want you to think that…"

"I know, Walter," Peter said quietly. The two smiled at each other for a moment, and Peter felt the lost feeling smooth just a little. He rubbed his father's back again. "Come on, let's get you back where it's warm."

Walter nodded and they moved down the row of graves toward the path. As they turned onto the walkway, Peter suddenly remembered a poem he'd once heard at a funeral.

_Do not stand at my grave and weep  
__I am not there. I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow.  
I am the diamond glints on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning's hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
I am not there. I did not die._

Peter looked over his shoulder at the well-loved little grave and shivered again. _I am not there. I did not die._ Empty words, he thought. No matter where he went, he was always dead to one side or the other.

oooooooooooo

A/N – Thanks for reading! Just to give credit where credit is due, the poem I borrowed is the über-creatively named "Do not stand at my grave and weep" by Mary Frye. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can, but, like I said, I'm still trying to sort stuff out over here. I'll do what I can! Thanks to those of you still following the story! : )


	17. Chapter 17

Olivia sat in the lab on the edge of a stool, glancing at the door and tapping her fingers on the lab bench. She knew Peter had found Walter and was on his way back to the lab and that everyone was all right—for the most part anyway—but that didn't stop her from worrying. She'd gotten back from her meeting with Broyles an hour ago and sent an exhausted Astrid home with the knowledge that Walter had been found. But she couldn't feel anything from Peter now except a vague feeling that they'd found something they'd been looking for. She frowned, trying to place the feeling, almost a taste… She stopped tapping her fingers in surprise.

Grape juice?

A minute later, she finally sensed him outside the door and stood as father and son entered the lab.

"Hey," Peter said with an apologetic smile as he shut the door behind them. "Sorry, Walter had something _very _important he wanted at the store."

"Grape juice is essential to my thought process," Walter objected from the back as he put said item in the fridge.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the scientist's voice, then smiled at Peter in relief as he approached her. She felt ridiculous and she supposed it was a lingering effect of the scare of the past week, but even in the short time he'd been gone, she'd missed him.

He leaned in to kiss her, deepening it for a moment before pulling back and returning the smile. "Me too," he whispered.

They exchanged a look with soft eyes until Walter walked in a second later with a half-empty glass of grape juice in his hand. He glanced from Peter to Olivia, then awkwardly put the glass down and put his hands in his coat pockets. "Peter told me—well I'm sure you know—but he… he told that you're planning to go to the other side," he began, avoiding their eyes. "I-I want to help in what way I can to make sure that it's done safely… a-and that you are able to get back." He raised his eyes and offered a sheepish smile.

Olivia nodded in relief. "Thank you, Walter. Do you have any idea how we might go about doing that though?"

"Ah!" Walter replied, raising a finger and taking a step forward. "I believe that is up to _you_, my dear."

She blanched and glanced at Peter in confusion. "_Me_? What can I do?"

"I'm afraid it's more a question of what _can't_ you do."

Peter looked taken aback. Wasn't the Massive Dynamic motto something like that? "What did just you say?" he asked.

Walter ignored the question. "Olivia, you were the first to see the other side, but the intention was always that you would be able to _go_ there as well, if need be," Walter explained. "You should be able to, especially given that Peter's from there to begin with. If you _focus_ on that, on your bond with him..." he made a hopping gesture with his hands, "you should be able to pass into the alternate universe, seamlessly and safely."

She gaped at him, and he smiled reassuringly. "Here," he continued, "join hands with Peter—there you go—now close your eyes and _feel_ the transfer, _feel_ that other universe, through Peter…" She looked at him, eyebrows raised, but he just nodded at her enthusiastically. "Go on! Close your eyes…"

After a glance at Peter, Olivia took a deep breath and tried to do as he said. She closed her eyes. She focused. She willed. For a second, she thought she felt _something_… but she shook her head after a moment and winced. All she could feel was Peter's confused concern for her seeping across their bond. Other than that, she felt nothing—except a bit foolish.

She opened her eyes and shook her head again. "Walter I-I can't. I don't know how."

He nodded and looked down pensively. "Hmm. I suspect that's only because you aren't open to the _possibility_ of your being able to do it. Once you surmount that, however, it should be quite simple."

As she turned her aghast expression to Peter, he smiled reassuringly. "Simple," he joked sympathetically, "like toasting a marshmallow."

"Yeah," she laughed tensely, running a hand through her hair. How on Earth was she supposed to transport herself and Peter to the other side, using only her mind?

Peter touched her hand and wrapped her in comfort before turning back to Walter. "Just in case… is there another way?" he asked, and she watched Walter hopefully. If there was, it might take some of the pressure of her to learn how to do this.

But the scientist shook his head. "No way that won't further damage the barrier between the two worlds, no."

Her stomach sank in disappointment, and she felt Peter's concern for her growing. He was starting to consider not crossing over after all if it meant putting her through Jacksonville all over again…

"No," she interrupted his stream of consciousness. "I can do this, Peter. I can. But come on, Walter, there has _got_ to be a way to help me figure this out."

"I believe that at this point most of your abilities are there, just under the surface… It's only your own inhibitions that are keeping them hidden," Walter explained regretfully. "I suppose… we could try a form of hypnosis. Or drugs," he said with a chuckle. "Just as long as your inhibitions are lowered—just like when you were a child. Allow yourself to fear, to believe… Even liberal amounts of alcohol would probably work well enough."

"So I have to be drunk to cross over?" Olivia nodded once and put her hand on her hip in exasperation. "Great."

Walter smiled sadly. "Not necessarily. You just need to focus on your bond to the other side through Peter and consciously _will_ yourself to cross over while truly believing that you _can_ cross over…" He looked over and saw that his words were obviously not helping. "I'm afraid that's the only advice I can give. We-we could try the hypnosis now—"

Peter made a subtle cutting motion with one hand. "Not tonight, Walter. We're pretty beat from the whole tank thing—I don't think either of us are ready to cross over just yet."

Nodding, she sighed in a combination of frustration and relief. She felt like she was letting him down, but she had to admit he was right. They needed time to recover first.

"Oh," Walter replied, obviously trying not to look too pleased at the news that they weren't leaving just yet. "Well, I guess I'll see you both in the morning then." He turned to walk away.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Peter said, holding on to his father's arm. "Where are you going? I thought I was taking you home."

"Oh, no, I'm quite all right here for tonight. I believe it would be best to let you two have as much time alone together as possible, to further cement the bond and to acclimate Olivia's mind to the idea of crossing over." He looked at their obviously dubious faces and smiled. "I believe I'll stay right here. W-why don't you go to Olivia's?"

The two exchanged an amused look at his attempt to get them alone, but they knew there was no point arguing. Besides, he could look after himself for a night. Peter raised his eyebrows in defeat. "All right, we'll go to Olivia's. _But_ we're taking you home first, under the condition that you call if you need anything. Astrid's at her apartment if you need her, and you have Olivia's and my cell numbers on the card in your pocket too."

"Yes, yes," Walter said dismissively. "I just need to use the facilities first." He tottered off, but paused as he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. He frowned, brow creasing. As he reached a tentative hand toward his reflection, his face suddenly paled.

Beside her, Peter immediately tensed. He took a step toward his father. "Walter?"

The older man started and turned his head toward them before scooting slowly out of the tiny bathroom as if in a daze. He grabbed Peter's arm with a quavering hand. "Son… promise me you'll be careful—over there."

Peter reached up and gripped his shoulder in concern. "Sure… But what's going on? Did you remember something?"

He shook his head. "Not… not exactly, no. It-it's more of a thought that I've had. Peter… I've learned a great deal about myself—since St. Claire's—and, it's just, the me—the me on the other side, Walternate—he may not have had the same… self-revelations that I've had."

Peter's brow furrowed. He drew back a little, and Olivia crossed her arms uncomfortably as her eyes darted between them. "Walter, what are you saying?" she said.

He wrung his hands. "He may have continued on the path that I… what I mean to say is, I-I was a different man back then. You couldn't have _trusted_ me."

"So… what? You don't think we can trust Walternate?" Peter demanded, and Olivia felt him immediately bristle. Walter thought he wouldn't be able to trust his real father? How dare he, Peter thought. Well, maybe _he _was the one who couldn't be trusted! Maybe he was just saying that so they'd be suspicious of Walternate and come back to this reality out of prejudice, only believing _Walter's_ side of the story… She felt her own anger rising in sympathy with his until she caught herself.

_Peter… That's not true, and you know it_, Olivia countered. She tried to calm him, fixing him with a sympathetic but reproving look, and after a moment he took a deep breath. They both knew Walter was sincere in his warning—and it wouldn't hurt to be cautious at any rate. Peter clearly remembered some of the "different man" that Walter had been—and he _hadn't_ trusted him back then. His knee-jerk reaction to Walter's words was evidence enough of that.

"We'll be careful," Peter said after a moment, a little ashamed of his reaction. Walter nodded, looking down at his hands. Peter sighed and put a hand on his back in silent apology. "Come on, I'll take you home." He turned back to Olivia as they walked to the door. "Meet you back at your place?"

She nodded. "I'm just gonna stop and get a few things. I should get there before you do, but…"

"I've got a key," he said with a smile. "See you soon."

"Goodbye, Olivia!" Walter piped up from behind Peter, peeking over his shoulder.

She smiled. "Goodbye, Walter." With a final look, Peter shut the door behind them.

Once they were gone, Olivia sighed and gathered her belongings. She had a vague feeling that she needed cereal and pancake mix for some reason… She wished she could remember why. As she picked up her scarf, she decided she might as well pick up some other things at the store while she was there. She was ashamed to admit it, but she had pretty much nothing for them to eat in the morning.

As she got in her car and drove to the grocery store, she tried not to dwell on Walter's words. How could crossing over somehow depend on her? She gripped the steering wheel in helpless frustration. Walter had said that her powers were all there, just beneath the surface… but she couldn't feel anything. She didn't even know what those powers were, but at this rate she'd never find out anyway. Too many inhibitions, he'd said. So a week ago she hadn't been able to be afraid and now she was too full of inhibitions altogether—in both cases unlike when she was a child. A part of her wished her three-year-old self were here instead of her. She probably could have handled this better.

Olivia couldn't even remember that girl. She hadn't recognized her in that drug-induced forest, not even as she'd sat face to face with her. What hope did she have of becoming like her again? Then again—for better or worse—she had relearned how to be afraid, for a time anyway. All she'd needed was a trigger situation… Surely she could find a situation to lower her inhibitions as well, make her feel like a child again?

She pulled into the parking lot and entered the grocery store. She wandered the aisles, picking up various things and glancing at her watch. She still had time. Peter hadn't even left Walter at their house yet. As she walked into the cereal aisle, deep in thought, she thought she heard her name and paused, listening. Hearing nothing, she turned back to the cereal selections dismissively. A moment later, however, she heard it again.

"Hey, Dunham!"

Olivia finally turned toward the sound and almost jumped back in surprise. There, standing not three feet from her, was Sam Weiss.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," he greeted in his dry voice, smiling gently nevertheless.

"Hi! What-what're you doing here?" she replied. She looked around, trying to figure out where he'd come from, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary even as she berated herself. She was usually so aware of her surroundings. How had she missed him?

"Berry Berry Kix," the man responded, holding up the box. "Snack run." He squinted his eyes as he studied her and nodded. "So… it's been a while, huh? Looks like you worked out that whole secret business though."

"Yeah," Olivia said, happy to have something good to report to him for once. "Yeah, that all worked out."

"Mostly," he corrected. She sighed.

"Yeah. Mostly."

"So?"

"So…"

"Where are you going?"

She looped her shopping basket's handle over her elbow and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you're shopping, but not buying anything that could spoil. Now, knowing you, that's pretty typical since you probably only spend sporadic amounts of time at home as it is. _But_ there's something else bothering you. Hence: trip."

Staring at him, she battled between being impressed and being irritated. He'd pegged it again… but what could she tell him, that she was trying to go to a parallel universe? He already knew about the other side, she knew that—it was why she'd started seeing him in the first place. But it felt weird saying it in public, surrounded by profoundly mundane breakfast foods. She hesitated.

He continued to study her for a moment, but eventually he frowned and shifted slightly. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him frown seriously before—as a joke, yes, but not seriously, with his whole face. Olivia's anxiety immediately jumped. "What?" she demanded.

"You're going back over there, aren't you?"

"Over where?"

"Over the rainbow, Dorothy, where do you think?"

She gave a defensive half-shrug. "Yeah. We're crossing over… a-as soon as I can figure out how."

"You and your friend with the secret?"

She nodded, throat going dry as she contemplated their upcoming trip again. Sam's attitude certainly wasn't helping ease her already rattled nerves. She shifted and gripped her other arm, watching him as he watched her.

"Just be careful, Dunham," he warned, raising his eyebrows. "Let's just say nothing'ds what it seems—on either side."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, but an alarm on his watch started going off as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go…" he said, patting her on the shoulder. He gave her a significant look juxtaposed with a reassuring smile. "Just keep your eyes open over there… And come see me when you get back, will you?"

"Sure, but what did you—?"

But he was already gone. She let out a blustering sigh of frustration and put the Raisin Bran in her basket a little harder than she meant to. Typical. How could he just say that and leave? That man was so infuriating, she fumed.

Even more so because he was usually right.

He had been wrong about one thing, though. They weren't going anywhere any time soon. She could buy all the perishable foods she wanted and they would probably be eaten ten times over by the time she figured out how to cross over. She felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of how much Peter needed this… but she just couldn't see it happening any time soon. It had taken her long enough to learn to see the glimmer. Crossing over altogether was so much bigger, would take so much more time to figure out… Maybe she'd buy some eggs, she thought glumly. Might as well. She glared at the space from which Sam Weiss had vanished before moving on.

Olivia sighed and pulled her coat a little tighter around herself. Two warnings in one night. One thing was for sure: When they did cross over, she wouldn't be taking anything at face value.

oooooooooooo

A/N – Poor Olivia. Little does she know they'll be crossing over sooner than she thinks… maybe even next chapter! : P

As for crossing over, I know in the show she needed help, but in my version, since she's bonded to Peter who's from the other side to begin with, she won't be needing help. The next chapter should be up by early next week… or so I hope! Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, Peter woke slowly, the itch of a problem at the back of his mind. Olivia was already awake, he knew. He could feel her grappling with something, tossing it over in her brain and teasing it out for answers. He took a moment to admire the intuitive feel of her probing mind before opening his eyes.

Sure enough, as he looked to his right, there she was. Her glasses were perched on her nose and she had a pen resting on her bottom lip as she read the file resting on her bent-up knees. Still under the covers, she was obviously focused on her task. She frowned at the file she was examining and put it aside, rifling through several others on her bedside table until she found the one she wanted. Her face smoothed again and she settled in to read whatever it was, leaning back ever so slightly into the pillow. Gradually, the perplexed frown returned to crease her forehead and she abandoned the file in favor of another. The pen rested on her lip again and he smiled.

She was so focused that it took her a moment to realize that he'd woken. After a moment, however, she looked over at him in surprise. He stretched and crossed his arms behind his head with a smirk. "What?" she asked suspiciously, and his smile widened.

He sat up, leaning over to kiss her temple. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you're working?" he asked, voice still gravelly from sleep.

"No," she said, grinning despite herself and putting her glasses on the bedside table. "Probably because you would have been lying."

He laughed in his throat as he kissed her again, this time on her neck. To his surprise, she giggled, squirming slightly under his ministrations, and he grinned wickedly. Olivia Dunham was ticklish?

"Don't you dare!" Olivia laughed, eyes lighting up as she turned to face him. She leaned in and kissed him and the two grinned at one another before he caught sight of the label on the file she was looking at. His smile faded in confusion.

"Are those John's old files? I haven't seen you look at those in months," he said, looking down at them. He tried to squash the little surge of subconscious jealousy that swelled up inside him before she noticed, but she was too quick. And he'd be damned if he didn't detect just the smallest bit of amusement from her.

He gave her a reproving look, male ego bruised. She'd adored John and the scars of his death and supposed betrayal still hadn't entirely healed. He was a big enough man not to be bothered by the ghost of an ex-boyfriend, but he was only human. The man had cast quite a shadow on the heart he'd been hoping to claim for at least a year now.

Leaning in toward him, she placed her hand on the side of his face and captured his lips with hers in an apology. She pulled back with a reassuring smile that he returned grudgingly. "I just wanted to see if there was anything I missed," she told him, "before we cross over. Walter's warning last night made me think about what you said the other day, about the cases we've seen seeing being someone preparing for the fight on this side? I was hoping maybe John had known something about the war on the other side too, something more about ZFT, or… _something_." She avoided his eyes, brow creased pensively as she dropped the file onto her bedside table. There had been nothing there—not a damn thing to help them—and it made her stomach twist in anxiety.

She'd been hoping to find something so they wouldn't be going to the other side completely blind, he realized. She was more worried than he'd thought… and she'd been hiding it from him. Even with their new abilities, she'd been hiding it from him. "Livia… Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, meeting his eyes at last. But he knew why she'd hidden it, and he felt a twinge of guilt at the realization. Her eyes said the rest. Sure she was worried, but what could she do? She was going to see this through for him, no matter what.

Peter hated the sick feeling her expression gave him. He'd never met anyone with more courage and loyalty and he loved her for it, but this was killing him. What if something went wrong? What if something happened to her, because she'd put aside her worries and gone with him anyway? He knew two things simultaneously: he would do anything for Olivia—but he had to find a way to contact his original parents. He just wasn't sure how to reconcile his two realities. He couldn't promise that everything would work out. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping for by going through all this. Maybe it _was_ a mistake…

"Peter, we were going to end up crossing over eventually anyway," Olivia interrupted.

"We don't know that."

She shrugged. "This thing is going to come to a head one way or another. Maybe by going over sooner rather than later we can help figure it out sooner and prevent it from getting worse. I think… it's for the best."

BS. Now that he knew she was bluffing him, she could feel her trepidation clear and strong. But he could also sense that she believed what she said—or at least she wanted to. Still, could they really keep it from getting worse? He shook his head, jaw clenched. Maybe. Maybe not. This was so much bigger than both of them… After a moment he sighed, leaning over to rest his forehead against hers as he brushed her hair back. Maybe she was right. He hoped so. He kissed her cheek and tried to relax, gently caressing her shoulder as he closed his eyes. This would be all right. He'd do everything in his power to make sure of it, and he knew Olivia would too. That had to be enough.

With a smile of relief, she drew him into a slow kiss. He deepened it, and she smiled against his mouth. Her hands trailed down his back, emotions escalating. He mirrored the gesture, tracing his fingers over her soft skin, and let out a breath. After a moment, she pulled him down onto her, weaving her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he felt her leg brush against his.

He broke the kiss with a smile to trace his lips over her face, down her neck. When he reached the spot where her neck met her shoulder, she started to giggle again. He laughed in response, ready to go in for the kill again, until she captured his mouth with hers and rolled them over. She drew up, tucking her hair behind her ear, eyes lighting up as she straddled him. He grinned up at her and met her hungrily as they merged in another kiss.

They heard a muffled noise. Peter took a breath and paused. "What was that?"

"Probably nothing," she whispered as she kissed her way up his jaw. His stomach jumped, on fire from her touch and his breathing quickened. Oh, God, he hoped it was nothing, because the way her hand was trailing its way down his chest… He rolled over onto her again and he felt the love swell between them as they arched toward each other. Her breath caught. "Peter…"

Suddenly, they heard the noise again—and this time it had the distinct sound of a door closing. The front door. They stiffened as a voice echoed through the apartment. "Aunt Liv?"

Olivia gasped, sitting up beneath him. "Ella! It's Saturday, I forgot—I made plans with Ella and Rachel weeks ago!"

She quickly slipped out from underneath him and wrapped a bathrobe around herself. Peter flopped down with a groan, face in the pillow as she darted around the room. "I'll go out while you get dressed—Ella hasn't really mastered the art of privacy yet. If I don't head her off, she'll probably just come in." She paused. "Rachel too, actually." He rolled over to look at her, and she offered an apologetic smile as she leaned down to kiss him. "Mm… Sorry, baby."

He sighed. "No problem. Mind if I shower first?"

She smirked. "Sure. But don't be too long?"

"Sure," he laughed softly. "I'll be right out."

She disappeared with a final smirk, shutting the door quickly behind her. Almost immediately, he heard the sound of muffled voices and he let out a breath of relief. It sounded as though she'd caught them just in time. He thought in horror what would have happened if she'd been too late and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. Having them walk in on them would have been bad enough, but Peter had a feeling Olivia hadn't had a chance to tell Rachel about the two of them yet. What a way to find out… If she'd even been planning on telling her at all, that was.

He got up grabbed his shirt off the floor. He could feel Olivia's awkward discomfort as he heard her voice through the door, and he didn't blame her for that. Olivia had always been a private person. All throughout her life, she had never been comfortable mixing work or her social life with her family—a protective reflex that often made sense given her childhood and line of work. This mixing of the worlds was completely out of her comfort zone. He understood if she hadn't wanted to tell Rachel and Ella about him… even if he wished she would have.

But as he headed into the adjoined bathroom, he felt a part of her was also… relieved? He stopped. Was she glad to be telling her family for once? He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud to bring him home to meet the family—or that he'd wanted to meet the family. He smirked as he grabbed his pants and shut the bathroom door behind him. God, he loved that woman.

oooooooooooo

Olivia shut the bedroom door behind her, barely managing to get it shut in time before her sister and niece emerged from the living room. "There you are!" Rachel greeted. "My gosh, you're always up before us; we were starting to get worried! Decided to sleep in a bit?"

Olivia smiled awkwardly and nodded, gripping the doorknob behind her back and clicking the door shut. "Uh, yup."

"Uh huh," Rachel replied, squinting eyes obviously taking in her strange behavior and crooked bathrobe. "Ella, why don't you go in the kitchen and get yourself something to eat—provided your Aunt Liv actually _has_ something for you to eat…?"

With wide eyes, Ella glanced up at Olivia, at the closed door behind her, at her mother, and back at Olivia. "Aunt Liv?"

So that was why she'd had the feeling she needed to get food… She could have kicked herself. How could she have forgotten about her plans with her family? Olivia shot her sister a strained smirk, hand sliding down to rest protectively on the door at her back, then turned to her niece with a warm smile. "You go ahead, baby girl. We'll be in in a sec."

"Ok…" The little girl glanced over her shoulder at them suspiciously before skipping off into the kitchen.

Rachel crossed her arms and fixed her with a piercing look. "So… who's here, Liv?" she asked with a wicked grin.

Olivia groaned. Rachel would never let her live this down. "It's Peter," she admitted, wincing as her sister squealed in delight.

"_Peter_? Oh, my God, I knew it! I knew there was something going on with you two!" She hit her sister's shoulder, flat-palmed, and grinned like an idiot.

One side of Olivia's mouth quirked up uncomfortably. "Well, there _wasn't_… at-at least not until recently."

"Oh, _please_," Rachel scolded, swatting a dismissive hand through the air and narrowing her eyes even as she beamed. "It didn't take a detective to see this one coming from a mile away. How recently is 'recently?' And you sly thing, you never said a word! I guess I shouldn't be surprised. God, that's so like you!"

Olivia ran a hand through her hair and shrugged guiltily, but she couldn't help the small smile that grew on her face. As much as she wanted to be irritated at her sister's prying, she just couldn't. Not this time. She offered an awkward laugh.

Although she hadn't thought it possible, Rachel's grin increased even further at her reaction. She quickly led Olivia to the couch and pulled her down to sit next to her. "Aw, Liv, I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks, Rach," she said with a sigh. She couldn't remember the last boyfriend she'd voluntarily told Rachel about. It felt… _good_, and she was glad it was Peter. The sisters smiled at each other.

Rachel tilted her head as she studied her. "You really like this one, don't you? I mean I always knew that you did, but…" Her smile turned gentler. "This is really serious, isn't it?"

Olivia allowed her smile to grow a little more and it touched her eyes as she nodded. She loved Peter more than anything, and she knew he felt the same for her. Even now, she could feel his love surrounding her, warm and comforting through their weird bond, and as strange as it felt, she'd never been more serious about anything in her life. The smile gained a tinge of melancholy, however, as she thought of how they were risking everything to go to the other side for him.

Rachel had no idea just _how_ serious this was. With any luck, she never would.

Rachel's expression changed to concern as she noticed the alteration in Olivia's demeanor, but Olivia was saved having to explain by the sound of the bedroom door closing behind them. The sisters glanced up as Peter entered the room with a slightly embarrassed smile and wet hair. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels in the living room doorway. "Hey, Rach."

"Peter," Rachel greeted with a knowing smirk. He returned the smirk and shrugged with a small laugh, eyes resting on Olivia.

On hearing his voice, Ella immediately peeked her head out of the kitchen and grinned before running into the room. "Hi, Peter! When did you get here?"

Rachel snickered, and Olivia and Peter blushed slightly. "Not too long ago," he half-fibbed with a grin as he squatted down to accept the hug she rushed over to give him. "Oof, you're getting so tall!" he groaned as he hurked her up onto his knee. Olivia smiled, admiring how good he was with her niece. "And how are you, Miss Ella?" he inquired in mock-seriousness.

"Great!" Ella bubbled as she practically bounced up and down. "We're spending the day with Aunt Liv today! You could come if you want!"

"I think that is a _wonderful_ idea!" Rachel agreed, glancing at Olivia and then Peter. "Why don't you join us, Peter? We've got a fun-filled day planned of petting zoos and ice cream…"

"Well, I think I'd have to have no soul to turn that down," he teased with a gentle smile. "Count me in."

"Great!" Rachel stood, looking very pleased with herself. "Why don't I whip something up for breakfast while you guys… freshen up?"

"Actually, I think I saw some eggs in there, which, I might add, happen to be my specialty," Peter said with a flourish of his hand. "I'd be happy to cook."

"Really?" Olivia replied with a surprised grin. "Your specialty?"

He shrugged. "I used to work as the assistant chef in a little diner once upon a time. The place was a dump, but the food was amazing."

She shook her head fondly. Of course he had. Job number 15, right after the job fighting wildfires. He smirked.

Oblivious to their internal dialogue, Rachel clapped her hands together. "That sounds great!" she said, standing and steering Ella toward the kitchen. The girl looked up at her mother in confusion. "We'll just go get the stuff out for you…" she continued as they backed away. _And he cooks too!_ she mouthed to Olivia, giving her a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen.

Olivia shook her head and stood to stand face to face with Peter. They smiled at each other for a moment before the gravity of their situation settled slowly around them again, thick and cloying. "Are you ok with this?" she wondered, face tightening. "I know you wanted to try to cross over today—"

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, brushing her hair aside. "This is more important right now. I'm glad it happened this way."

She nodded absently, but her face softened and she felt her shoulders relax. "Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled and kissed her again, this time on the lips. She deepened it, reaching up to cradle his face before drawing away slowly and looking up at him with sly eyes. "I'll be back… You go cook your 'specialty,'" she teased.

Laughing, he started toward the kitchen. "Ah, you joke now, but never before have you tasted such wonderful eggs."

Olivia shook her head and headed back toward the bedroom, glancing over her shoulder to appreciate his familiar form before it was hidden by the doorway. Still beaming, she closed the bathroom door behind her.

oooooooooooo

The rest of the day was spent at a little fair south of Boston. To Olivia's delight and surprise, the day was the picture of normalcy—something she hadn't been able to really appreciate in years, especially with Peter. As Peter had joked, it was so normal it was weird. At least for them.

Ella pet the animals, giggling when the goat licked the corn kernels from her hand. Rachel looked on with a grin and immediately handed her daughter another quarter for the feed when she asked, joking that Ella thought she was Dr. Doolittle. Peter bought Olivia a cotton candy, and she paid him back by winning him a stretchy frog toy from one of the shooting games. Walter would love it, they decided, and vowed to give it to him when they got back. Astrid would certainly appreciate that it wasn't as slimy as Walter's usual subjects. All throughout the day, Peter fit in with the sisters' easy banter as if he'd always been there. He even gave Ella a piggyback ride on their way to get ice cream.

After, Olivia strolled through the fair with him, hand intertwined with his, and just smiled. At least for today, everything in her life seemed to have fallen into place. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so relaxed. She had everyone she cared most for in the world right within arm's reach, and it had been a long time since she'd let herself have this much simple fun. As they walked to their cars, Olivia realized that for once she was sorry to see the day come to an end.

"Thanks, Aunt Liv," Ella said as Olivia bent down to give her a hug.

"Rarr!" she grunted as she bear-hugged the girl. "So you had fun then, did you?" Ella nodded enthusiastically and Olivia touched the tip of her nose. "Well, I'm glad."

Peter bent down next to her and received a hug from Ella as well. "Bye, Peter!" Ella said with a smile. She pulled back and tilted her head. "Can I call you '_Uncle_ Peter'?"

"Ella!" Rachel scolded.

The little girl looked up at her mother innocently. "What? I can call Walter 'Uncle Walter,' and he's Peter's dad…"

Peter laughed. Who could argue with logic like that? "Sure," he replied, giving her another hug. "Bye, Ella. You keep that new teddy bare safe, okay?" She gripped her new prize tighter to her and nodded.

Rachel smiled apologetically as Olivia and Peter stood and said goodbye to her, giving each a hug in turn. "We'll see you next week, right?" Rachel wondered as she pulled away from Olivia.

"Uh… I… I should be here," Olivia stammered. "But we might be out of town. It might be best to call me at the office, to see if I'm in."

"Very mysterious," Rachel joked, and Olivia forced a grin. "Well, we'd better get going," her sister continued. "See you guys later!" They all waved goodbye before the Rachel and Ella turned to walk away.

Mother and daughter had only taken a few steps toward the car before Ella leaned in toward Rachel and said in stage whisper, "Are Aunt Liv and Uncle Peter gonna get married?"

"Ella!" They didn't hear the rest of Rachel's scolding, but Peter and Olivia smirked at each other as they waved goodbye again to the embarrassed Rachel.

A wedding… Olivia closed her eyes and leaned against Peter as he put an arm around her. She couldn't imagine anything so wonderfully normal. After today, however, she supposed anything was possible. Maybe someday. Despite everything, Peter truly was the best man she had ever known, and she couldn't imagine spending her life with anyone else. Still, they were already closer than any married couple could ever hope to be. At this point, a wedding would just be a formality to symbolize what they already shared.

Sleepy and peaceful, they walked together in slow silence under the uniform gray of the sky overhead. She wondered if it would snow again, thinking how nice it would be, just her and Peter snuggled up inside against the cold. The gravel of the little parking lot crunched underfoot and Olivia let herself be rocked by the steady feel of Peter through their bond, against her body…

Suddenly, she felt a tingle building along her skin, through the air, and her steps faltered. Beside her, Peter stopped.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Peter, I feel it," she said in an excited whisper.

He tensed. The other side?

She grinned. Today must have lowered her inhibitions, made her feel more like she had as a child. She took a deep breath. The charged air danced faster along her skin, making it stand on end, and she looked up at Peter.

"Now?" he asked, brow creased nervously. Were they even ready to go now?

"We may never have another chance like this," she admitted. She could do this after all, she realized. To be honest, she wasn't sure she could stop it at this point. And Walter would know what had happened to them, so it wasn't as though they were leaving without warning... After a moment, Peter nodded and she closed her eyes. She gripped his arms, relaxing into the feel of him, focusing…

Abruptly, she felt a jolt as the energized air around them changed. She opened her eyes to the blue sky above and the sidewalk beneath their feet… and the hundreds of people surrounding them in what was now apparently a busy street where the rural fair had been moments before. Peter stumbled as a passing man bumped into him, and Olivia looked around in shock.

It had worked.

Tall buildings surrounded them, gleaming dully in the sunlight as people passed by in the shadow of the zeppelins overhead. A bus drove around the corner, its edges more smoothed than the buses she was used to. She remembered Walter saying that they were more technologically advanced on the other side, and she could see what he meant in the little details that were different. The buses, the phone booths, the tiny laptop at the café across the street… Still, so much looked similar. A wave of awed excitement passed between them, and she gripped his hand tighter.

"Hey, watch it!" the man who had collided with Peter grumped, turning around to face them. As soon as he saw Peter's face, however, he tensed. His eyes darted to Olivia and widened as he took a step back. "N-never mind," he gasped and backed away. They saw him bump into another person up the street and begin talking quickly with her, glancing back at them. Olivia frowned, stomach sinking.

_Something's wrong_, Peter thought to her, shoulders immediately tensing, ready for a fight. By now, the other people around them had turned to stare at them as well, whispering in panicked voices. They took a step back, realizing belatedly that they had to get out, but it was too late. Within seconds, they heard sirens and three police cars had pulled up in front of them. Six police officers rushed out of their cars to surround them, guns raised and aimed—at her.

A tall police officer stepped forward, gun also pointed at Olivia. He stood at a distance, seemingly unwilling to step closer. She noticed the tightness of his face, the slight quaver in the grip on his gun and she felt a jolt of shock. Was he… afraid of her?

"Olivia Dunham, hand over your ID immediately!" he shouted in a booming voice.

Her ID? How had they known her name? She glanced at Peter, but he was glaring at the cops as though he'd like nothing more than to take them all out if so much as breathed wrong. A tense tremor swept through the police surrounding them. What was going _on_? Nervous, Olivia fumbled for her wallet and handed it over. The cop hesitantly edged toward her and grabbed it. He studied it for a moment before immediately pulling his gun up again.

Everything seemed to happen all at once. "Olivia Dunham, you're hereby under arrest for inter-universe crimes and misdemeanors. You have the right to remain silent, as anything…"

"No, wait—" she shouted as she pulled away from the younger cop who grabbed her arm from behind, cuffs in hand. "What's going on here?"

"Wait a minute!" Peter protested simultaneously, also batting off the cop trying to cuff her.

The first cop looked at Peter and shifted in his stance. Although he never lowered his gun from Olivia, he glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eye. "Peter Bishop, if you'll come with us, sir. We have no intention of harming you."

"Back off, buddy," Peter growled, voice dangerously low.

"Sir, I'm afraid you have to come with—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Peter smashed his fist into the cop's face, and Olivia simultaneously jabbed an elbow at the one trying to cuff her again. They had to get _out_ of here. But where could they go? she wondered as she blocked a punch and threw out one of her own. Suddenly, a blow to her temple blindsided her, sending a slicing pain through her head and momentarily stunning her. She felt a swell of despair as another blow knocked her gun from her hand and she noticed another wave of police descending on their position. There were too many of them. She landed a solid kick on her nearest opponent and tried to catch her breath. _Peter… Peter, they know who I am, they know who we are, how did they know…? How did they _know_?_

_I know! I don't know! Olivia, I'm sorry—_

_Peter, don't._

_Olivia… _"Look out!" Peter shouted, punching a cop aside to dive toward her desperately, but another grabbed him around the waist and dragged him back.

The cop who had originally tried to cuff her had pulled out his gun and was aiming it at her in wide-eyed horror. Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant to do. With a leap, she tried to dodge to the side, but too late. The weapon seared through her shoulder and she cried out in shock and pain as was knocked to the ground. Along with the pain, she could feel Peter's terror, his feral protectiveness as he launched himself at the nearest cop with a growl, trying to get to her. "Olivia!"

_I'm okay…_ Olivia struggled to her feet. She brought a hand to the wound and studied the bright red of the blood. They'd _shot_ her! Why would they…?

"You idiot!" she heard the first cop say. "He wants her alive!" He grumbled under his breath before shooting a glare at the younger cop and yanking out his walkie talkie. "This is Officer Brunswick; I need EMS sent to my position immediately. Target is down but still dangerous, repeat…"

Olivia staggered but kept her fists raised. _I'm okay, I'm okay… _She glared at the police surrounding her, a snarl on her face as she did her best to seem the terrifying target they apparently thought she was. She feigned a lunge at one of the officers surrounding her and he scrambled back in fear. She stumbled again, righting herself just in time. _I'm okay…_

As her vision started to grey, however, she took a step away from them. She was losing too much blood too fast. When she took another step back, she slipped, almost falling to one knee, and she let out a growl of frustration. She wasn't going out like this. She had to get to Peter, they had to get _out_… She lunged at the cop between her and Peter in a last-ditch effort to reach him. He was only three feet away… But he was fighting off four police of his own as he fought to get to her. It was no use. With a glance over his shoulder, their eyes met before a cop dropped her to the ground with a punch to her gut. She hit the pavement hard and coughed, curling up in pain. _Peter…_

"Get _off_ her!" Peter barked, making another dive for her, but three men dragged him back. Her vision wavered at the edges, flickering. Her head swam.

This morning she'd woken up safe in Peter's arms.

She loved the softness of his eyes when he looked at her.

She watched those arms tearing at the police surrounding him. His eyes were wild and desperate and his furious agony was thick in the air.

The softness of his eyes…

_Peter…_

The last thing she heard before she passed out was Peter's roar as he was pulled away from her.

"_Olivia_!"

oooooooooooo

A/N – Ahh! What now? heehee…

Obviously my alternate universe is going to be an _alternate_ alternate universe… I had planned mine out before they started showing it on the show, but I kinda what I have so I think I'll stick with it. For better or worse! But hopefully it works. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up—soon—but this one was extra long to make up for it.

Thanks for reading! : )


	19. Chapter 19

A/N – Ahh this season is going to be so great! Haha And now I'm satisfied that my plan for my story is sufficiently different from their plan for epic awesome so that I don't feel like a complete fraud at least. Just mostly one. Bad enough I'm borrowing their characters for giggles! : P

oooooooooooo

Walter Bishop hummed a little ditty to himself as he pushed the barely-toasted toast down in the toaster for a second time. When it stubbornly popped back up on him, he frowned, glancing at the four pieces of already charred bread on the plate to his right. Perhaps the toaster was malfunctioning? With a string of louder humming, he pushed it down with more force, and this time it stayed. He shrugged. He swayed a little to his self-created tune and then danced over to the fridge to retrieve the orange juice. It was such a magnificent morning!

Things were going so well, he thought—outside of his toast difficulties, of course. Peter had spent the entire day with Olivia yesterday, and he'd sounded so happy when he'd called to check up on Walter from their outing. He must have even stayed over at Olivia's again last night, given the fact that he hadn't come home yet. The way they were spending time together, it was like they were newlyweds, he mused to himself with a happy little wiggle. Their ordeal in the tank had certainly been a more effective method for bonding people than the average wedding—although it was somewhat less ceremonious. He did have to admit that he was a little disappointed he hadn't had the opportunity to pass his wedding suit on to his son. Peter would have looked so dashing in purple…

Well, there was still time for that, he reassured himself in satisfaction. With any luck, spending time with Olivia would make Peter realize that he had all he needed right here—and that he was needed here too. Already, he'd postponed looking into crossing over to spend time with her. He smiled. A little time was all they needed. Peter would see.

Behind him, he heard the front door open, and he turned around with a grin to see Astrid and Agent Broyles come through the door. "Ah! Astrid! Agent Broyles! How nice to see you!"

Astrid offered a wan smile. "Hi, Walter. Umm, how are you doing?"

"Excellent! Peter's off with Olivia, I believe, if you wanted to see him. It's wonderful, isn't it?" She continued to smile awkwardly at him and Walter looked over at Broyles to see him looker even graver than usual. He put his orange juice down on the counter, stomach dropping as he shifted his feet. This wasn't a social call. "Oh, dear. Has… has something happened? I-is this about that rather large order of _Areca catechu_ nuts and _Piper betle_ leaves that I made several weeks ago? Because I do have a scientific purpose for those…"

Astrid let out a short laugh, but her face tensed in what Walter quickly recognized as sadness and worry. "No, it's not that."

His eyes darted between the two. He clenched and unclenched his suddenly sweaty hands. No... "Not… not _Peter_… Is he hurt? Where is he? Can I see him? Please, I-I need to—"

Astrid shook her head sympathetically, and Agent Broyles spoke up at last. "I'm sorry, Dr. Bishop. At this point, we just don't know. He appears to be missing, along with Agent Dunham. Peter's car was found abandoned late last night at a fair south of Boston, but there's been no sign either of them. We were hoping you might have seen or heard from them recently?"

A fair? Walter grabbed his orange juice with a shaking hand and he chugged the rest of the glass down in hollow gulps. No no no… Missing… _Missing_? They weren't missing. No, he knew exactly where they'd gone. He rested the glass back down. His stomach churned from too much liquid too fast along with a sharp pang of anxiety. "They've crossed over," he whispered. "God, help us, they've gone."

"I thought they didn't know how yet," Broyles protested with a concerned glare. Astrid's eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth.

"I told Olivia everything she needed to know to accomplish the transition," Walter explained regretfully. He shook his head as tears welled in his eyes. Who knew what they'd encounter over there? Suddenly, he noticed the toaster smoking and he rushed over to manually pop his by now blackened toast. He tossed the hot toast from one hand to the other, trying not to tremble.

This was an omen, he was sure of it, blackened toast, blackened… but no. No, he refused to believe that. Things would be fine. Wouldn't they? He absently missed his ill-conceived contentment of five minutes ago. With the charred bread still gripped tightly in his hands, he closed his eyes. _Please let them come back safely,_ he begged. _Please…_

He only wished he could believe it.

oooooooooooo

_Peter! Peter, please…_

"_Olivia_…"

A hand reached out to him in the dark, desperate and frightened. He grasped for it, stretching to reach it. His fingers grazed hers, the contact a breath of relief, but the hand slid from his grip, dissolved into darkness…

Peter started awake and instantly sensed that he was alone. He raised himself up from his bed with one arm. With his other arm, he dragged a hand across his face and groaned, head throbbing even in the dim light. What had happened? As he rolled over and choked back a swell of nausea, he brought a hand to a sore spot on the side of his neck. They had drugged him, dragged him away, away from…

"Olivia!" Peter sat bolt upright, heart pounding. Where was Olivia? Those bastards had taken her. She'd been hurt… Blood. She'd been bleeding so much. Bright red against the beige of her sweater… His stomach roiled again from whatever they'd obviously given to sedate him, but also from more than a heavy dose of fear. He swallowed down the bile and steadied his breathing. Oh, God, Olivia. Was she even still…?

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to stretch out across their bond, trying to reach her, to feel her, silently pleading… He held his breath. After a moment, he thought he felt something, but it was like trying to grab the hand in the dark in his dream. Everything was so muffled. He couldn't quite reach her. She slipped out of reach again, and he made a noise of frustration. Still, he could feel her at least, and that meant one thing.

She was _alive_. Even if only barely, she was alive.

He let out a ragged breath of joy. She was alive… As long as that was true, there was hope; they could work with that—if he could just figure out how to get out of here and back to her. He had to focus on that: get out of here and get to her.

He glanced around the room. From the looks of it, it was some sort of hospital room. If it was a hospital room, however, it was full of all sorts of medical equipment he wasn't familiar with. He recognized some basic pieces—the heart monitor that he quickly detached himself from, for example—but in the corner were several machines he couldn't name. As in other areas of science, the medicine here must be more advanced, he thought.

He just hoped that meant they'd be able to save Olivia. His throat tightened. Could she really survive losing that much blood? He'd never seen her so pale, except for when she'd almost died, after her accident. She'd looked so fragile crumpled up on the dirty sidewalk, put down like some sort of rabid street dog by their attackers. He felt a wave of fury as he thought of what they'd done to her. He'd kill them. Whoever, they were, he swore… But suddenly he remembered her eyes as they'd rested on him—so anguished, almost apologetic, but there had been no blame in them. He almost wished there had been.

He knew who was to blame for this.

He rubbed his aching temple. This was all his fault. They'd been _happy_, for once. If he had never insisted that they go back… but he couldn't have known this would happen. He knew he couldn't have known. And Olivia had agreed—but Olivia would have agreed to go to the moon with him if he'd asked. Had he taken advantage of her, even if it had been her choice too?

He let out a ragged sigh. It didn't matter. The point remained that they were only here because he hadn't been able to leave well enough alone. What had he _done_? Jabbing pangs of guilt seared through him, tearing at his gut as his mind ran rampant through the horrible possibilities. What if… if she…? _No_. No no no… He refused to even think it. He'd die first, he snarled—or someone else would. She was going to be fine. _Olivia, I'm so sorry_…

"Focus," he berated himself, getting to his feet despite his whooshing head. There was no time to beat himself up now. Besides, it was _them_—the people who had taken her—that he was more worried about tearing down. Whatever they wanted, it certainly couldn't be good, not after the way they'd treated her. And whoever this "he" was who had apparently wanted her alive, Peter wasn't all that optimistic that it was because this guy actually cared about her—or that he'd want her alive for long. Peter had to get to Olivia before they did anything to her—and then they were _leaving_. They never should have come in the first place.

What he wouldn't have given to have realized that a day earlier.

At last, he spotted the door and hurried over to it. He peered through the slat of glass at eye level, out into the hall. Pretty typical hospital layout, he thought, or at least he hoped. From the looks of it, his room was on the third floor. A little way up the hallway he could see a rounded desk swarming with doctors and nurses. At the end of the hall in the opposite direction he could just see the edge of a stairwell door hidden around the corner. Perfect. That was his escape route.

A nurse suddenly passed by the window and he ducked out of sight. As soon as the man had passed, however, Peter glanced quickly back at the distracted people at the desk and went to grab the handle to make a break for it. He palmed the door and froze.

There was no handle.

He ran his hands over the rest of the door in the dim light of the room, hoping to discover that they just put door handles somewhere else on doors in this universe, but he felt a jolt of irrational anger as he realized that there was really just nothing there. No handle, no controls, no high-tech pad to scan his retina or palm—nothing. He was trapped.

He slammed his palm into the doorjamb with a low growl and turned around, running a hand through his hair as he paced. Every second he was trapped here was a second they could be doing who knew what to Olivia. And who knew how long he'd been out already, what they'd already had time to do? He reached out for her again and latched onto her faster this time. Whatever they were doing to her, she wasn't conscious, even as she raged against the leaden grogginess of her mind. She was still in so much pain… He paced faster, scowling. What were they _doing_ to her?

And how had they known who she was? How had this _happened_?

Suddenly, he heard the door open a crack behind him. As it opened further, light streamed into the room and he grabbed some IV tubing as a weapon. He darted behind the door and prepared to pounce on the person coming through. If only he could get his muscles to respond properly to his commands… His fingers gripped the tubing clumsily and he did his best to firm up his hold on it. He fought the fog in his brain to focus on his task, waiting…

When the person stepped through and Peter caught sight of him, however, Peter stopped breathing. His hands dropped slowly to his sides, and the tubing fell limply to the ground. The man who had come in turned at the sound and smiled at him.

"Hello, son."

Peter took a step forward and stopped, studying the man in front of him. This… must be his father—his real father, he realized dully, and he felt his throat constrict. He was _here_, standing right in front of him, face wrinkled in a soft smile that was both familiar and unfamiliar. An eerie shiver went up his spine. The face was certainly Walter's. The rigid stance and carefully tailored clothes, however, were nothing like the slumped frame and wooly sweaters of the Walter he knew. Even the smile was different somehow, although he couldn't quite put his finger on how. More cogent, maybe, more… _something_. He went to take another step forward, but hesitated.

_You couldn't have _trusted_ me…_

Peter's brows knit together. Walter's warning. What if Walter had been right, and this Walter really couldn't be trusted? Even Olivia had been worried, although she'd been willing to giving to at least give Walternate a chance. What if he blew Olivia's chance at freedom by banking on him?

He took another hesitant step. "I…" His throat closed up on him as he tried to speak. He stared at the man—his _father_—fighting off a wave of dizziness. None of this felt real. Maybe it wasn't.

Damn it, what had they given him in that shot?

Before he knew it, Walternate had closed the gap between them and pulled him into a gentle but very real embrace. "_Peter_… I can't believe it's really you," he whispered hoarsely. He pulled back from the hug, hands still resting on Peter's shoulders as he smiled tearfully at him. "You have no idea how many times, how many different scenarios I have imagined of this moment." He rested a hand on the side of Peter's face. "And now you're finally _here_… I-I do apologize for the accommodations, but I understand you put up quite a fight! The men who found you hadn't wanted to hurt you in a struggle, so they had to sedate you and put you in here until I could be informed that you had been found."

They hadn't wanted to _hurt_ him? He felt a swell of fury. What made him so special, that they couldn't have extended the same "courtesy" to Olivia? What on Earth had she supposedly done to deserve what they'd done to her? He looked up into his father's eyes, however, and felt his fury fade. It wasn't Walternate's fault. He couldn't believe his father was really standing there in front of him, looking so serene… He must have had no idea about what they had done to Olivia. He just seemed glad to see his son. Peter wished he could feel the same, after all this time, but he felt a twinge of regret as he realized what he had to do.

He had to leave.

He knew it had broken Walter's heart to see him go, and it would probably break this Walter's heart as well. They were essentially the same person, after all. Still, Peter knew that as soon as he had the information he needed he was leaving. He hoped he'd be able to find Walternate again, to maybe spend some time with him after all this was over, but for now he didn't have a choice. He could work faster alone, and the faster the better. He briefly quibbled over what to call this man—Walter? Dad?—but in the end he decided to just cut to the chase. "Look, I… I'm sorry. But I can't stay."

Walternate grinned sympathetically and touched Peter's jaw as if in wonder that he was really here. "Of _course_ you can, son."

"No, you don't understand… I came here with a woman," he began, eyes fixed on his father's imploringly. "Please, I need to find her, she was hurt…"

Walternate's hand dropped from his cheek back to his shoulder as he nodded in comprehension. "Ah, yes, I heard about that. Olivia Dunham. Peter…" He hesitated, clearly weighing his words. "Things here are a bit… complicated."

"Complicated?" What the hell did that mean? No, actually, he didn't care what it meant, he realized as he clenched his fists. String theory was complicated. This whole damn "many worlds" theory/ undeniable-pain-in-the-ass-reality was complicated. But this—what he intended to do—this was not complicated. He was going to find Olivia… and then he was going to keep her away from whatever crazy people were after her, like he should have in the first place. It was that simple. "Look, just… can you please just tell me where she is? Where are they keeping Olivia?"

Walternate shook his head with a regretful frown. "I'm afraid I don't know."

Peter stiffened. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. Walter didn't know? How could Walter not know? Walter always knew…

His father hesitated for a moment with an odd expression on his face before patting Peter's arm reassuringly. "Peter, I may not know where she is, but I promise we can look into it. _However_—right now I'd just like to get you back home where it's safe and make sure that you're ok." His smile slowly returned as he studied him. "Your mother is going to be so happy to see you."

Peter's fists unclenched in surprise. His mother? So… she _was_ alive here? He'd wondered, a part of him had hoped… He took in Walternate's welcoming face, and his throat closed up like a dam for the rush of anguish.

This place seemed like everything he could have hoped for. Walter was apparently completely sane, his mother was alive—for crying out loud, there were even zeppelins flying around… But this place had also stolen the woman he loved. He felt the empty hole where Olivia's warm presence was supposed to be and his stomach sank in agony. Nothing could make up for that. Not even what he'd come here for to begin with. Walter continued to watch him and Peter hesitated. His father and mother would just have to wait.

But then again, so would Olivia, he realized with a sinking feeling. He still had no idea how find her. She could be anywhere…

After a moment, he sighed and dropped his head into one hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to clear his inexplicably foggy brain. He needed to concentrate, to _think_. Inaction went against everything his instincts were screaming at him, and he clenched his jaw partly in frustration and partly to fight back another wave of nausea. His head just wouldn't stop buzzing… Suddenly, he felt the world tilt slightly, but Walternate immediately steadied him.

"Take it easy, son." he soothed, his voice sounding somehow distant as Peter tried to focus on it. "You were pretty heavily sedated from what I understand, and those drugs are still in your system—with some regrettably nasty side effects, I might add. Not to mention the toll traveling back to this universe must be taking on your body… You need to rest. You must be exhausted."

He looked back up at his father and frowned. He was exhausted, but it was more than that. He didn't feel… _right_, somehow. He ached briefly for Olivia. She was supposed to be here with him; she _should_ be here. He couldn't imagine resting until he at least had a lead, something more than just the vague feeling that she was alive. Even in the state he was in, anything less felt like betrayal.

But as his father continued to smile at him, waiting so patiently for him to respond, Peter felt something inside him crumple. He couldn't do this alone. It was rapidly becoming clear that he'd need help getting to Olivia… and if his own father wouldn't help him, then he was pretty sure no one else would. Going with him would allow Peter the time to recover and the resources that he'd need to find her quickly. Or so he hoped.

At this point, that hope was all he had.

He nodded reluctantly and allowed Walternate to lead him out of the open hospital room door. He barely remembered the trip down to the parking lot, and when he got in the car it was more an automatic response than anything else. As soon as they started to drive, he'd already passed out again in exhaustion, head resting against the cool glass of the car window. But his mind never strayed from the constant ache.

_Olivia_.

oooooooooooo

Walter Bishop stole little glances at his sleeping son as he drove. He turned the music down, afraid he'd wake him as they followed the deserted highway lined with dead trees. He needn't have worried. Peter continued to sleep undisturbed, his unfamiliarly lanky frame cradled by the seatbelt.

After what Peter had been through, Walter wasn't surprised. Tranipax was a powerful sedative, after all, and ideal for tranquilizing its subjects even for some time after they'd regained a degree of consciousness. What was more surprising, then, was the fact that Peter had been awake at all when Walter had arrived to finally bring him home. He should have been out for at least another hour.

His son was resilient.

Walter took another glance at him and smiled. It was truly surreal to be able to observe his son in person again, to be able to hug him, to realize that the scent he'd always associated with his little boy had changed as he'd grown into a man. He shook his head.

The Window hadn't allowed him to experience any of that.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N – Hey! Chapter 20! I know, I know I should have posted sooner, but it looks like this is how often I'm probably going to be able to update with my current schedule. Sorry! But I'll do my best! Enjoy! : )

oooooooooooo

"Wow, I just… I can't believe it."

Olivia shifted slightly as the muffled voice pierced her foggy consciousness. Even the slight movement caused her aching head to throb and a slice of pain to shoot through her shoulder, down into her abdomen. She stilled, trying to catch her breath from the pain. Astrid? Was that Astrid?

"…So that's really… _her_?" the voice continued, dropping to a whisper on the last word.

"Yeah, I guess. Who else could it be?" another voice replied, and Olivia stiffened. Her breath left her in shocked recognition. "Jesus, look at her—it's unreal. Hey, anyone else as creeped out as me?" It couldn't be…

John?

Astrid spoke up again. "She just looks so normal…"

A short laugh echoed through the room, and Olivia closed her eyes tighter. This wasn't real, this wasn't home, this was a dream. It had to be. She knew that laugh. "No kidding. Like looking in the mirror, huh, Liv?" _Charlie_. John and Charlie. Alive.

Olivia opened her eyes a sliver to peer out from under her eyelashes. Standing on the other side of what appeared to be a sort of blue glass were Astrid, John, and Charlie, along with a woman it took her a moment to recognize as her alternate self. They were staring right at her. She froze, trying to keep still to give the illusion she was still asleep—not hard to do, given that she was bound to a low table. But her heart was pounding, and she could hear it in the beeps from the monitor beside her.

Her alternate self shot Charlie a glare. "Knock it off, Charlie. She's nothing like me." She tucked her chin-length brown hair behind her ear and crossed her arms as though daring him to disagree. He offered a small smile and shifted away from her.

With a contrite expression, Astrid looked awkwardly from one to the other. "I'm sure he didn't mean that—"

The alternate Olivia waved her off. "Whatever. What are we supposed to do with her? Kill her? They could have just sent me for that. Sending all of us seems like overkill."

Olivia felt her throat tighten at her alternate self's words. There was a callousness to her tone that made her hair stand on end and a wave of cold settle in her stomach. Sure, Olivia had to admit that she could kill when necessary—she had in the past, when she hadn't had a choice—but it still made her sick to the stomach. The alternate Olivia obviously felt no such qualms. Suddenly, she felt very exposed with only a thin sheet of blue between herself and her alternate. She cursed her bound limbs and tried to discreetly look for an exit. There was none, at least not within her line of vision.

The alternate team, however, didn't seem to share her horror at their teammate's words. They shrugged, and John raised his eyebrows. "Dr. Bishop and Broyles haven't said yet. Whatever it is, they're being pretty tight-lipped about it until they're sure." He shook his head, studying Olivia pensively. "Man. What's she doing here? Why now?"

"Why don't we ask her? It appears that she's waking up," another voice replied sarcastically from somewhere out of sight. The voice's owner walked up behind them and Olivia almost shook her head. Of course.

Walternate.

It looked like Walter had been right after all about his doppelganger. Poor Peter, she thought, gut twisting in regret. She wondered if he knew yet. He'd be heartbroken. To have come all this way, just to discover… _this_? The man who shared her friend's face walked up to the glass and peered through for a minute, studying her coldly. She tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, and after a moment he turned his head to the side. "Put her under again."

Charlie tensed and exchanged a look with John. "Sir?"

"I believe I was very clear about the fact that I wanted to keep her _sedated_, Agent Francis," Walternate retorted sharply. "Awake, she's a danger. Asleep… asleep we can potentially get what we need."

Astrid frowned nervously. "And… what's that, sir?"

Walternate smiled. "That, my dear, is why you're all here. I trust you've all completed your training in the Harris Technique?"

They all nodded, and the alternate Olivia grinned in comprehension. "We're going to use it on _her_."

"Precisely. The experience and training you all have regarding the other side will be key in any success we hope to have here. You'll be working in shifts, maintaining the project 24-7 with the help of my staff. I expect to start getting results by tomorrow. Harris himself is coming to make sure that everything goes as it should—he did, after all, develop the technique—and this is too important to leave to chance," Walternate said gravely, not taking his eyes off Olivia. He turned his gaze to what she assumed was thi universe's Fringe Division. "Remember, our very survival depends on the outcome of this project." What did their survival have to do with her? Olivia wondered, but the others all nodded, faces grim but determined.

A white-coated man came into view and walked up to the glass holding a syringe. Walter frowned at him. "Give me that syringe," he said to the man. The scientist hesitated, and Walternate gestured impatiently. "Come, come. Give it to me. Now."

With a glance at the others, the man complied and stepped back as Walternate punched a code into a keypad on the wall by the glass. He placed his palm against the blue and what she had thought was blue glass seemed to waver unsteadily in midair in the shape of a door. It wasn't glass at all, she realized. It was some sort of laser or plasma or… something. Some sort of light or electrical barrier… Whatever it was, she bet Peter would know.

She felt a jab of agony at the thought of him, and she hoped desperately that he was okay, wherever he was. At least he wasn't here, trapped with her. At least that meant there was a possibility he was safe... Just to be sure, she reached out, but as she tried she felt a sudden pulse of fear.

She couldn't feel him. Her breathing quickened. She couldn't feel Peter. What had they done to him? she raged, but after a moment she took a deep breath. He couldn't possibly be hurt. He had to be all right. Walternate wouldn't kill his own son, she tried to reassure herself. She swallowed.

Would he?

As she opened her eyes fully, the Fringe team took a step back in surprise—and not a little fear. Walternate, however, smiled, and stepped right through the wavering blue barrier. It solidified behind him. Olivia struggled against her bonds as he stepped toward her, syringe in hand.

"Calm down," he said soothingly. "We're not going to hurt you… Not physically, at least. Not yet. In fact, we actually fixed you up a bit—not too much, of course; we can't have you escaping. But we removed that bullet from your gut, and that was no mean feat. It had ricocheted right off your scapula and down into your abdomen! Very messy. We had a lot of internal bleeding issues to tend to. But be warned: we won't tend to them again if you keep wiggling like that."

Olivia glared at him hesitantly. "Where's Peter?" she demanded.

"The two of you have quite the one track mind," Walter commented with a sigh as he bent down next to her. "He's fine. Better than you, I can assure you."

She watched him for a moment, studying him, before finally accepting his words. Peter was safe. She could read it in his face. She, however, was not. She arched her head back to get a better view of him and strained to free her arms again. "What do you want from me?" she snarled. "Why am I being held here?"

Walternate smiled and brushed her hair back gently, sending a chill down her spine. The gesture presupposed a certain level of familiarity—as well as a confident knowledge that he was the one in control. She jerked her head away from him with another glare. She didn't know what he was, but this man was nothing like Walter, and she sensed it wasn't an improvement over the man she knew.

This Walter would hurt her.

"All in good time," he replied, retracting his hand. He injected the syringe into her IV and stood over her. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, Olivia Dunham. Too long, in fact."

Olivia frowned as the drugs started to take effect. A long time? A long time for what? How did everyone know who she was? How did _he_? She paused as a thought struck her. Had they been watching her? From the other side, had they been watching her? What had they seen that could possibly make them so afraid of her? And what were they planning to do to her because of it?

She glanced back at the Fringe team and her breathing quickened as she caught sight of the man standing with them. Sanford Harris. What was he doing here?

The Harris Technique… Her mouth went dry. That was _him_?

Her eyes darted back to Walternate where he stood watching her. He patted her arm and stepped back. "Sleep, little Olive. Sleep…"

No, no, this wasn't right. She couldn't sleep—she _wouldn't_. Peter. Where was Peter? _Please don't make me sleep again, please… Peter, where _are_ you?_ If he was all right, why couldn't she feel him? Why was there just this gaping hole…? She struggled against the crushing pressure pushing her toward unconsciousness, but it was overpowering. After a moment, she started to fade into sleep.

Walternate turned away, placed his hand against the blue barrier, and crossed back over. He turned to look back at her, obviously believing her to be too sedated to hear him. "We'll get what we can from her," he told the alternate Fringe team in a lower voice. "After that, kill her."

Olivia tried to cry out in outrage, but her body was no longer responding to her commands. Her head lolled to one side and her eyes fluttered closed against her will. With a small noise, she curled into herself mentally to defend herself against whatever they were planning. She wasn't going down without a fight. For whatever that was worth.

_Peter, where are you?_

oooooooooooo

Peter sat on the edge of the bed in the room his father had given him, head in his hands. Ten minutes ago, he'd woken up in his parent's house to a cold silence, an empty, cloying, yawning… nothingness.

He couldn't feel Olivia anymore.

She was just _gone_. At first, he'd been afraid that this sudden silence meant she was dead. He'd spent an entire minute in stricken panic, scrambling mentally to bring the feel of her back, trying to wrap his head around the possibility that she really was gone this time. In the end, however, he'd dismissed the idea—in part because he just couldn't handle it and in part because his heart was screaming that it just wasn't true. Olivia couldn't be dead. He was sure somehow that he would have felt it in his core, that he would _know_ if she had died, not just suspect. The string he'd once felt tying him to her wasn't so much severed as disappeared—still there somehow, but undeniably not.

No, something else was going on here, he thought as he lifted his head from his hands. Maybe she was too far away. Or maybe she was blocked by some form of interference that was keeping him from sensing her—if that was even possible. Either way, Olivia Dunham was not dead. Just hidden. He could still find her. It would just a little be harder than he'd originally thought. He clenched his fists.

But she _wasn't dead_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter spotted a note on the bedside table. With a frown, he picked it up and read it through quickly. It was from Walternate—he'd gone to pick up Peter's mother. Apparently she had been away, visiting a friend, but was coming home as fast as she could. They'd be back by 7:00pm. Peter looked at his watch before realizing that he actually had no idea what time it was in this universe. Regardless, he thought he would have time to get some sort of information before they returned—or at least he hoped.

He got up quickly, praying he'd find some sort of computer with access to whatever passed as the internet here. There was bound to be something on there about Olivia. After all, people probably didn't drop in from alternate universes on a regular basis here, and those people in the street had obviously recognized them for what they were—both him and Olivia. Maybe they even knew about the other side here. He wouldn't know how much they knew, however, until he got access to their internet.

As he entered his parents' earth tone-filled living room, he spotted a computer in the corner and studied it for a moment before sitting down. No mouse, he noted… Touch screen then, maybe? He poked hesitantly at the screen and it flickered to life. A light jumped out from the glowing screen and moved over his eye before the monitor let out two low beeps. "Retinal scan not recognized. Access denied."

"Oh, come on!" he growled and poked the screen again. "Come on—Peter Bishop, Walter and Elizabeth Bishop's son? You know… the people who _live _here? Just let me use the damn—"

It scanned and beeped again. "Retinal scan not recognized. Access denied."

"Fine, you want to play it like that?" he retorted in a low voice, typing in a string of commands on the flat keyboard. If he couldn't get in legally, he'd have to hack it. Should be simple enough…

_Beep beep_. "Code not recognized."

He gritted his teeth and tried another method. "Okay…"

_Beep beep._ "Code not recognized."

"Agh!" he pushed his chair away from the computer table as the computer beeped again.

"Attempted security breach detected. Powering down until activation by authorized personnel."

The screen flickered off.

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand over his neck. Locked out. He hadn't been locked out of a computer system since… he couldn't even remember. This universe must have different programming, or else just plain better security. Probably both, he admitted grudgingly. Either way, it looked like he'd just have to wait for Walternate to get home. Just as he caught sight of the microwave clock that said 6:39pm, he heard a key turn in the front door. He frowned in surprise.

They were back.

oooooooooooo

"_Quickly_, Walter," Elizabeth urged. She bounced on her heels as Walter turned the key in their front door. Just on the other side of that door was her son, her Peter, after all these years… With a grin, she eased her way past her husband the moment he swung the door open.

She took two steps into the living room and froze. Standing in front of their old brown couch was a man she had never seen before—at least not in person. Tall, handsome, a hint of a beard. Turbulent blue eyes, full of so much... Elizabeth brought a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, and the image of the man blurred. Peter—her disappeared, dying little boy who had owned and broken her heart—had grown up. Even without her.

She let out a muted laugh and took another hesitant step forward. He matched the step, staring, and smiled as though in awed disbelief. She couldn't imagine what this must be like for him, she thought. But for her… She felt her stomach tighten. It was more than she could have hoped for. "Peter…" With another two steps, she swept him into a hug. "Oh, _Peter_." His arms wrapped around her in return, gently at first and then more solidly as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Hi," he whispered hoarsely in reply, into her hair, and she laughed before pulling away.

"Hi, yourself," she replied with a teasing smile. She could tease him again—and how good it felt! She laughed again as he hesitantly wiped a tear off her cheek. "I know it's cliché," she continued as she looked up at him, "but… my goodness, Peter, you've-you've gotten so _tall_!"

With a soft laugh, he ducked his head. "Yeah, I guess. You're a little shorter than I remember though…"

Eyes smiling, he held his hand level in the air above her before moving it down to her height, and she gently nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Oh, stop…"

He laughed again, and the two just smiled at each other for a moment before Walter shifted behind her. Peter's gaze jumped to him. He smiled hesitantly, clearly not sure what to think of Walter yet. She supposed that made sense. Peter always had been closer to her as a boy, and after what the _other_ Walter had put him through…

Walter nodded in greeting. "Did… did you have a good rest?" Peter nodded, and Walter smiled in relief. "Good, good. I have to admit, I was a little worried. You know, from what I understand, it's amazing that you're up and about at all, son. I thought it would take days for you to acclimate to being back in your own universe."

Elizabeth saw something flicker across her son's face, a deep sadness, and she frowned. Something was wrong. "I'm all right," he muttered, then hesitated. "Did you have a chance to look into what happened to Olivia?" he asked, face painfully hopeful.

Olivia… Olivia _Dunham_? Elizabeth mused in surprise. Their son cared what happened to _her_, of all people? She supposed they had come over together, but still…

Walter's eyes flickered over to her questioning expression, but he turned back to Peter with a face full of regret… and something else. Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Peter, I-I don't know how to tell you this," Walter began. He wavered for a moment before looking away and dropping his voice. "Olivia's dead. Her injuries were just… too severe… The doctors tried all they could, but… It was just too late, son."

As soon as the words were out of Walter's mouth, Peter… chilled. She didn't know how else to describe it. His face froze into a distant expression, seeming to draw into himself and away from them—a retreating glacier. Olivia Dunham was clearly important to him—she could read it in his entire demeanor—but as she continued to study him, she began to realize in growing horror that it was more than that.

He _loved_ her. No, no, no… that couldn't be. How could he _love_ that monster? From what they'd seen through the Window, she was… But she supposed, on the other side, maybe they didn't know what she was. She clasped her hands together in front of her, holding her breath. He must not know.

Regardless, Peter also knew that his father was lying about something, just as Elizabeth did. Walter, however, seemed clueless to the fact. As she looked over at Walter, it was obvious that he was mistaking Peter's reaction for simple heartbreak. He pulled the straight-backed Peter into a brief hug and whispered, "I'm so sorry," before pulling back again. Peter just stared at him, stunned, and Walter sighed. "We have some time before dinner. Why don't you shower? And we brought some new clothes for you…"

Peter averted his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. After a moment, he nodded before glancing briefly at the two of them and heading out of the room. The boy was obviously shaken, and she felt a wave of sickening guilt. She supposed it was a necessary deception, or Walter wouldn't have said it, but his reaction still broke her heart. She watched his dejected frame disappear into his room.

Walter sighed again and shook his head once he was gone, drawing Elizabeth's eyes back to him. She studied her husband carefully, hoping to see that some of the darkness that had settled on him since their son's kidnapping had disappeared, but she felt her heart constrict in disappointment. It hadn't faded. If anything it somehow seemed more resolved than ever. The Walter who had gone out in the cold to search for their missing son the day after his kidnapping… had never returned. She was beginning to suspect that he never would.

Rubbing her elbow absently, Elizabeth turned her gaze from where her son had gone and back to her husband again. "Walter…" She hesitated. "Is she really?"

"Is who really what, my dear?"

She held his gaze unwaveringly. She needed the truth. "Is she really… dead?"

His face darkened further, and she felt her stomach sink. "She might as well be, after we're done with her. And she will be soon at any rate."

"I see…" She looked back to Peter's closed door, remembering the pained desperation on his face, the need to know that Olivia Dunham was okay. It had definitely been love. Peter had never been a fool, even as a boy… How could he have been so deceived in her? Could this universe be wrong about Olivia Dunham?

Walter's expression changed as he clearly noticed her moment of doubt, and she looked down guiltily. "Elizabeth… you know how important this is. The fate of our universe, of everything…"

"Yes… yes, I know." She smiled up at him hesitantly, trying to reassure him. "I know." After a moment, she shook her head and ran a hand over her hair as she dropped her voice. "But he didn't believe you, Walter."

"Of course he did," he said soothingly. He smiled and pulled her into a hug. "It'll be all right. You'll see."

With a final tear, Elizabeth closed her eyes and relaxed into him. She hoped he was right.

oooooooooooo

Peter sat on the edge of the bed in the room his father had given him, head in his hands again. He'd lied to him. His father had stared him right in the face and lied to him. He shook his head in disbelief, letting his hands fall to his mouth, and sighed. After a moment, he straightened, letting go of the dejected act he'd adopted to fool his parents, and stared at his closed doorway. He'd _lied_. Olivia wasn't dead. Peter _knew_ it.

So the question that remained, then, was why Walternate was trying to convince him that she was?

As soon as they'd gone to sleep, he intended to find out. He wasn't giving up on Olivia that easily. _Hold on, Olivia, just… hold on._ He just hoped he wasn't too late.


End file.
